


You are in love

by hopelocklet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Marriage, POV Alternating, Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelocklet/pseuds/hopelocklet
Summary: As Draco and Harry begin their life as a married couple, they think back to how it all began.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters or this song.  
> Also, I would recommend reading the whole work as one, instead of chapter by chapter, as some of the chapters are quite short.

_ One look, dark room _

_ Meant just for you _

Draco laughs as we stumble down the hallway, pausing every few feet to snog. 

God, I love his laugh.

It sounds like a kept promise and a new beginning. 

I kiss him again and his laugh halts as he kisses me back wholeheartedly. He tastes sweet. Vanilla, like our wedding cake. 

“Harry,” he mumbles against my lips. I smile and feel, rather than see, the smile he gives me in return. “We’re here. This is the room.”

Reluctantly, I pull away from him in order to inspect the door.  _ Honeymoon Suite _ is painted on the wood in elegant, swooping script. It reminds me of Draco’s handwriting. Although, I suppose that everything reminds me of Draco nowadays. Probably a side effect of being in love with the git. 

“Do we dare go in?” I say, which makes Draco smile. 

“You first, mister Head Auror Potter. That way if there’s any monsters in there you can slay them for me.”

I grin, knowing I look like a lovesick fool, but not caring. 

I open the door to the suite and peer into the dark room. It’s absolutely extravagant; Draco will love it. 

“No monsters in here,” I assure him. “Now, should I carry you in, bridal style?”   
“I’m not a child, Potter. I don’t need to be carried,” he says, pretending to be offended.

“No, but you sure act like one sometimes,” I return.

“Harry Potter! This is what I get for pledging my love and devotion to you? Snarky insults and petty remarks?” 

“That wasn’t an insult, just an observation,” I say.

“It wasn’t what you said, it was the way you said it,” Draco insists, holding his head up high aristocratically. 

I laugh, and the sound is full of affection and fondness. “So you don’t want me to carry you then,” I conclude.

“Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to carry me.”

He’s so ridiculous, and I love him so much, so I kiss him. He wraps his legs around my hips as his tongue enters my mouth and I moan a little, subconsciously. I carry him into the room, my arms wrapped around him tightly because I know that if I drop him he’ll never let it go. The door swings closed with a bit of wandless magic. 

I lay Draco down on the silken sheets of the king-sized bed. The only light in the room are beams of moonlight and starlight that filter through the skylight, but Draco seems to glow anyway. His platinum blond hair circles his head like a halo. His eyes are sparkling, bright and alive with unconcealed emotion. The expression on his face is open, which is a rare thing, and I savor it.

“I love you, Draco,” I say, because I need him to hear it, need him to know how much I mean it.

Usually, he dismisses my “I love you”s with “you’re such a sap, Potter” or “that’s because I’m a goddamn miracle”, but not tonight. 

Tonight, he says, “I love you more.”

“You couldn’t possibly,” I whisper before I capture his mouth with my own and try to show him that nobody could ever love anybody as much as I love him.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Time moved too fast  _

_ You play it back _

Three years. Only three years since this started, since I realized that, for me, there would only ever be Harry. 

I think about our beginning as I play with one of his dark curls, rolling it between my fingers, savoring the softness of it, breathing in the scent of it. 

“Draco,” Harry murmurs as he comes to. I love the way he says my name, almost like it's a prayer.

“Harry,” I respond.

“We're married,” he says softly.

I laugh and run my fingers through his hair affectionately. The morning sunlight catches on my ring and it glitters beautifully.

“Yes we are. You're not having second thoughts now, are you?” 

“Well…” 

“That's not funny!” I punctuate my remark with a kick to his shins.

Harry cackles loudly and catches my arm just as I'm about to pinch him. I start to protest but he interrupts me by flipping me over and pinning me to the mattress. He looks at me warmly before leaning down for a kiss. I manage to kiss him back for a couple of seconds before I burst into giggles against his mouth.

“What?” he asks, his voice breathy and happy.

“I was just thinking about our first date.”

“Oh, Draco, no, please,” he pleads with me.

“Remember what you wore?” I continue, laughing between my words. “The plaid sport coat and the polka dot tie! I can't believe you thought you were being  _ fashionable _ .” 

“Yes, well,” he says. Harry settles himself on my thighs and looks at me petulantly. “I suppose it's a good thing you'll always be around to dress me from now on.”

“Do you remember our first kiss?”

His expression turns sweet and sentimental. How utterly predictable. I love him anyway, though. 

“Our first kiss…” he trails off with a sigh and looks like he's very much in love with me in this moment. I like it when he looks like that. It makes me want to kiss him. So I do. And we kiss and kiss until the kisses turn into something more.

When it's over, and we're sweaty and tired, Harry peppers my face with kisses. 

“Promise me,” he begins, pausing to kiss my forehead. “That it will always be this way. That we'll always love each other this much.”

I don't like promises. My mother promised me that I'd never have to become a Death Eater. She was held at wand point as Voldemort engraved the Dark Mark onto my arm. My father promised me that we were on the winning side of the war. He hung himself in his cell in Azkaban two years later. Pansy promised me that she'd hate me forever after I broke up with her. Eight years after that, she made me the godfather of her firstborn, a little boy named Paulo. But this promise, I like. 

“I promise you,” I tell Harry sincerely. 

After placing a kiss on my right cheek, he says, “You're such a sap, Potter.”

“Oh, do shut up,” I reply. I roll my eyes, but can't stop the grin that stretches across my face.

“I'm going to have a lot of fun with this whole ‘Draco Potter’ thing.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place three years before Draco and Harry get married.  
> You'll notice that it's in past tense, unlike the first two.

_ Buttons on a coat _

_ Lighthearted joke _

I'll never forget the night I re-met Draco Malfoy. It was the fifth ever game night at Blaise and Ginny’s flat and the first ever game night that Draco attended. He showed up fashionably late, of course.

I was seated on the sofa with Ron and Hermione, Blaise and Ginny were curled up on an armchair meant for one, Luna and Neville were sitting cross legged on the floor, and Pansy and her then-girlfriend, Josefine, had disappeared into the bathroom and were probably fucking at that point. 

When Draco walked in, my breath caught. He was absolutely striking in his classy trench coat and form-fitting black trousers.

“Oh shit,” was the first thing he said. “I'm not late, am I?” He smiled casually, revealing his perfectly white teeth, and his eyes flicked over everyone in the room before finally landing on me. His smile turned into a smirk. Cheeky bastard.

“Draco!” Hermione greeted him, perhaps a bit too loudly. She and Draco worked together as Unspeakables and got along surprisingly well. In fact, she probably knew that Draco fancied me before I knew it myself. 

“So, the infamous Draco Malfoy finally decides to show his face, hm?” Blaise spoke up. 

“Yes, that's right. Although I believe you meant famous, not infamous,” Draco said as he gracefully removed his coat. 

And fuck, his white dress shirt was attractive. I was stuck somewhere in between wanting him to take it off and wanting him to never take it off. I’d realized Draco was attractive before, of course, but only from a distance. From where I sat during game night, I could see the silvery irises of his eyes and the blue veins running underneath the pale skin of his forearm. And before I knew it, I was once again rapidly becoming obsessed with Draco Malfoy.

Draco didn't speak to me until we both ended up in the kitchen getting refills of Firewhiskey.

“Merlin, I'm terrible at poker,” I commented, hoping to get a real conversation with the blond.

I hadn't spoken to him in six years, when we were both eighteen. That conversation had been solemn and full of apologies concerning the war. I had thought about approaching him many times since then, mostly at Ministry events, but even with my so called Gryffindor bravery, talking to Draco Malfoy still seemed like a daunting task.

“You'd probably be getting a lot luckier if we were betting on something else,” Draco said with a sly grin as he filled his cup. 

“Yeah, like the number of times Pansy and Jo have hooked up in the bathroom tonight.”

Draco laughed out loud, a real laugh - something I'd never heard coming from his mouth before. The sound was quite intoxicating.

“At least three,” Draco surmised.

“Four,” I corrected him. “Pretty sure they were doing it when you walked in.”

“No!” He gasped, feigning scandal. “Pansy can be such a slut.”

I gave him a look that said ‘isn't she your best friend?’

“Just to be clear, I'm the only one who can call her that,” Draco said. He was still smiling softly. I wanted to keep that smile there.

“Or we could bet on how much you spent on that trench coat of yours.”

“A small fortune, actually. But, Potter, you have to see this coat. The buttons alone are works of art,” he said passionately.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“You just don’t understand fashion, Potter.” And as Draco shook his head and laughed, I realized that he was the real work of art.


	4. Chapter 4

_ No proof, not much _

_ But you saw enough _

“I can’t just ask him out, Blaise! I’ve no idea whether he feels the same way or not!” I whined to Blaise. Usually I would have these discussions with Pansy, but she had a lot going on in her own life, with the unexpected pregnancy and everything.

“Stop being so melodramatic. You’re a conceited bastard ninety percent of the time, but when it comes to Potter you have the self confidence of a house elf.”

Funny that the day after that conversation with Blaise, I should run into Harry on the lift at the Ministry. I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach that came around when I stood so close to Harry, but they were relentless. 

I was laughing at something Harry had said when we got off the lift, and I almost didn’t notice the way he was biting nervously on his bottom lip.

“So, Draco,” Harry said. He paused and looked at his shoes for a beat before meeting my eyes again. “How would you feel about going out with me sometime?”

“Like a date?” I asked hopefully, praying that my desperation wasn’t noticeable in my voice.

“Well, yeah.”

“I would feel good about that,” I told him. My heart was beating so loud that I began to worry that Harry would be able to hear how it sped up every time he smiled at me.

“Really? Great. Um, how’s Friday at six? I know it’s game night, but I figure we can afford to miss one night of Luna inexplicably beating everyone at every game,” he said. His goofy, happy grin had me swooning internally.

“Friday would be great,” I said. The giddy way he looked at me made me add, “And Potter, do try and be fashionable for once.”

Harry James Potter looked ridiculous on our first date. I'd never seen so many clashing patterns in my life. He was trying to be fashionable, trying to impress me. Which made those stupid, mindless butterflies in my stomach take flight.

He didn’t even kiss me that night. I can’t really say why not. After all, I’d been flirting with him for the past three months at those silly game nights that Blaise and Ginny put on every Friday. I’d even requested to be the Unspeakable consult on two of his Auror cases. 

When I told Pansy about the date, she laughed so hard that she seemed to have lost the sickly tint to her skin that had been around ever since she got pregnant. She told me not to worry about the lack of kissing.

“Next time you see Harry, jump on him. Give him the best goddamned kiss of his life,” she advised me.

So that’s exactly what I did.

Harry and I’s second date was at a Muggle coffee shop. He got there first, and was waiting for me all jittery and nervous. When I walked inside the shop - silently gathering the courage to kiss him - he rose to greet me.

“Draco,” he said. And when he looked at me with his twinkling green eyes and slightly crooked grin, I found it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be to lean in and kiss him.

He kissed me back immediately, lips eager, arms encircling me and making me feel safe. 

We walked into the next game night hand in hand. Ginny and Millicent, a new addition to the game nights, whistled and whooped at us. Blaise winked at me and whispered to me as I passed: “See, Malfoy? I told you not to worry about Potter. He obviously feels the same way.”

At that point, I still wasn't sure of that. I went over all the things I knew about Harry in my head. He is stubborn. He can’t dance, but he’ll dance with me anyway, as long as I lead. His favorite dessert is treacle tart. He likes sending me an owl whenever he sees something in Diagon Alley he thinks I’d like. He isn't scared to hold my hand or kiss me in public. He smells like cinnamon and broomstick polish and outdoors. He likes running his fingers through my hair. He feels the need to tell me how attractive I am every five minutes. And then I realized that maybe, just maybe, Harry Potter could be falling in love with me the way I was falling in love with him.


	5. Chapter 5

_ Small talk, he drives _

_ Coffee at midnight  _

Draco Malfoy was pretty much the last person I expected would know how to drive. But there he was, Tuesday before Christmas of the year we started dating, outside of Grimmauld Place, in a sky blue Mustang. 

“What is this?” I asked as I tentatively slid into the passenger seat. 

“A car, obviously,” Draco said with an eye roll. Abruptly, he started the car and turned to me with a smile. “Happy Christmas!”

“Is this my gift?” 

“Yes! Well, not the car. The car is mine. You’d probably crash it.”

I had to interrupt, “And you wouldn’t?” 

“No! See, that’s your gift! I can drive! Aren’t you surprised?” Draco exclaimed, beaming at me.

I looked at the man before me. A former Death Eater turned driver of a (mostly) Muggle car. Attractive, snobbish, and incredibly excited about his Christmas gift for me. I was definitely falling in love with him.

“I am very, very surprised,” I told Draco honestly. His smile grew so much that I just had to lean over and plant a messy kiss on his cheek.

“Good! Well,” Draco said, still blushing furiously from my kiss. “This is just a part of the gift. We have to drive to the rest of it.”

Two hours later, I had no idea where we were. All I knew was that Draco was going far too fast for my liking.

“Draco! Bloody hell! You’re going to kill the both of us!” I said in a plea to get Draco to slow down.

“No, no, no. We have to gain momentum to--”

“I don’t care, just slow down!”

“Scared, Potter?” Draco said with a sly smirk.

“Stop trying to be cute, Draco. We’re literally about to die.”

“Relax,” he insisted. 

And then, suddenly, the car was in the air. 

“This is a flying car? Where in the world are we going?”

“Quiet, Potter. Just sit back and let me give you a spectacular Christmas gift. Now, talk to me. How’s work?”

I truly never would have guessed that one day I would be in a flying car making small talk with the driver, my maybe-boyfriend Draco Malfoy. But there I was. Doing exactly that.

By midnight, we still hadn’t gotten to our destination. I think we were somewhere in Norway.

Draco stopped in the middle of nowhere.

“What are we doing here? Is this the place?” I said in confusion.

“No, you moron. Rest stop,” he answered, jerking his head in the direction of an ugly building that I hadn’t noticed.

Thirty minutes later, we were cuddling in the backseat of the car and sipping the disgusting coffee from the machine at the rest stop.  

“Aren’t you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No,” Draco said. He pulled me closer and kissed me. “The thrill is in not knowing.” 


	6. Chapter 6

_ The light reflects _

_ The chain on your neck _

“This is it?” Harry asked dubiously. 

“Yes,” I answered, looking at the field surrounding us appreciatively. “We just have to wait.”

“Well, okay,” Harry said.

I set up some blankets and pillows, casting warmth and cushioning charms for extra comfort. 

We settled ourselves on the blankets neatly: Harry laying flat on his back, me laying on my side, one arm wrapped around Harry’s middle, the other arranged so that I could stroke his messy hair.

It was dark. The stars were out. The very definition of a perfect moment.

“Can I give you your gift while we wait?” Harry whispered softly, like he was afraid of ruining our perfect moment.

“Yes! I like presents very much,” I told him excitedly.

“Okay, good.” Harry chuckled at my anticipation as he scrambled for his wand.

“ _ Accio Draco’s present. _ ”

A small tissue-wrapped package flew from the car window into Harry’s hand.

“It’s rather small,” I said disapprovingly.

Harry tugged sharply at my hair and handed me the gift. “Just open it, prat.”

I glared at Harry before gleefully unwrapping the package. I found a long silver chain attached to a peanut-sized silver Snitch charm. The little Snitch came to life when I held it in my hand, and it hovered about with it’s miniature wings as I watched in awe.

“Jewelry already, Potter?” I said teasingly. “I thought most people held off on that until their sixth month anniversary.”

“If you don’t like it-” Harry began, sounding panicked.

“I love it,” I interrupted. I took the chain and linked it around my neck. 

Harry smiled at me, looking relieved, looking really happy. I smiled back at him and we rearranged ourselves into our earlier cuddling positions.

“Hey, Potter,” I said after a minute of comfortable silence.

“Harry. I like it when you call me Harry.”

“If you really want me to do that, then you should tell me to only ever call you Potter. It’s called reverse psychology. Muggle technique.”

“And suddenly you’re an expert on Muggle psychology? How did that happen?” Harry asked, amused.

I sighed and said in an exasperated manner, “I am an  _ Unspeakable _ , you buffoon. It’s called that for a reason. I couldn’t possibly reveal to you why I am researching what I am researching.”

“Alright, alright, no need to be so dramatic. But about this reverse psychology thing. I’m not sure I understand how it works. Could you give me an example?”

“I suppose I could. Let’s say I was using reverse psychology on you. Instead of telling you to do what I want you to do, I’d tell you to do the opposite.”

“Okay, so do it. Use it on me. Let’s see if it works.”

“Alright, Potter, don’t you dare kiss me,” I said, smile blooming on my face.

“Oh yeah?” Harry said.

“Yeah. That would be a gargantuan mistake.”

“A gargantuan mistake, huh?” Harry suddenly sat up and shifted so that he was straddling me.

“I mean it, Potter. Don’t kiss me or else.”

“Or else what?” Harry was smiling and leaning down to cup my face in his hands.

“Just don’t do it.”

He kissed me. Just as I was about to breach his mouth with my tongue, he pulled away. I made an embarrassing distressed noise as Harry giggled.

“Well, would you look at that. It worked,” Harry said with a smirk. I quickly shut him up by reclaiming his mouth. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has both past and present tense- present tense is Harry and Draco travelling home from their honeymoon

_ He says, “Look up.” _

_ And your shoulders brush _

We were in the middle of passionately snogging the night away when the rest of my Christmas present arrived. 

Draco pushed me off of himself and, ignoring my grumbled protest, pointed to the sky.

“Look up,” he said.

Above our heads there were hundreds of ghostly figures sprinting rapidly through the night sky. They were various shades of blue, purple, green, and white. Upon closer inspection, they looked like animals. 

“What are they?” I asked, mouth agape in awe.

“Ghosts. Or rather, ghosts of Patronuses. They only appear once a year.”

“Wow,” I said. 

I laid flat on my back and Draco did the same, so that we were shoulder to shoulder. As I watched the eerily beautiful Patronuses dance among the stars, Draco curled his fingers around my own.

“Draco, this is amazing. Thank you.” I turned on my side to see him, and found that he was already looking at me.

“My mother took me here when I was seven. She and Father came here once, on their honeymoon. She told me that it was the most magical place she’d ever been in her life, and I should only bring someone here if I really, really cared about them,” Draco said. His silver eyes were gleaming, trying to convey the message that he didn’t dare speak aloud.

“Have you ever brought anyone else here before?”

“No.”

I didn’t really know how to respond to that, so I kissed him. He kissed me back with his entire being. His hands roamed my body, and mine did the same to his. He removed my glasses with care as I worshipped his neck. Soon enough, all of our clothes were gone. And then it was just us. 

Draco cried out my name when he came.

Once it was over, we shared a lingering kiss as Draco arranged a blanket around us.

Draco and I stared into each other’s eyes for a long time. And yes, it was absolutely as cheesy as it sounds. But it was perfect.

“I love you,” I told Draco for the first time.

“I’m not-” Draco started to say, but I was prepared for that.

“I know, I know,” I said. I kissed his forehead and wrapped him in my arms. “It’s okay.”

I had never been so happy in my life, as I was that night, asleep under the stars with Draco Malfoy snuggled up with me.

Although it should be impossible, I’m even happier now, with Draco driving us home from our honeymoon in our new - flying - convertible (named Leia, on Draco’s request).

“What is it, love?” Draco asks. He still has powdered sugar on his face from the pastries we were eating this morning in Paris.

“Nothing, just let me-” I say, and I lean over to lick the powdered sugar off his cheek.

“Ugh, you’re like a Crup, honestly,” Draco says and I laugh.

“Hey, that’s a good idea. We should get a Crup.”

“No, Harry. They’re plebeian creatures. We need a sophisticated pet.”

“What, like a peacock?” I joke.

Draco takes his eyes off the sky in front of us to glare at me for a second and replies, “No, not a peacock. We are never,  _ ever _ going to own a peacock.”

About a second later, we both burst into laughter. 

“But I’m serious though,” I say once our laughter subsides. “We should get a pet.”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“I guess it depends on how much you love me.” Draco smirks and somehow, after all we have been through, his smirk still makes my heart beat faster.   

“Draco Potter, I love you to the moon and back. I love you with all that I am and all I will ever be. I will go down in history books, not as The Boy Who Lived, but as The Boy Who Loved His Husband  More Than Anything In The World.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” 

“Please, Draco. I love you, even though you’re a stuck up prick. Please, please, please can we get a pet?” 

Draco’s chuckling now, and I know that I’ve won him over. “I suppose we could make room for a dog or cat of some sort. But only since you asked so nicely.”

I grin and take his hand to give it a kiss.

“And Harry?” Draco says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”


	8. Chapter 8

_ No proof, one touch _

_ But you felt enough _

I didn’t say I loved Harry when he said it to me. It took me a full three days until I realized how important it was that I said it back.

I showed up to the Weasley’s Christmas Eve party at around 11:45. I was dressed in fancy green dress robes, as I had come directly from dinner with my mother and her friends.

“Oh. Draco,” Ginny said when she answered the door. She was wearing a hideous woolen sweater with a large  _ G _ emblazoned on the front. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem averse to my presence. “Come on in.”

When I crossed the threshhold, I was met with wild laughter and booming conversations all around me. I think there was music playing in the background, but the noise of the guests drowned it out. I was terribly overdressed for the rambunctious event, but I hardly cared. I was a man on a mission.

“Draco!” 

I turned to my left, hoping to find Harry, and was disappointed to see it was only Blaise who called my name.

“What’re you doin here, buddy?” Blaise slurred, throwing an arm around my shoulder. He smelled like firewhiskey and was definitely drunk.

“Looking for Harry,” I said. “Have you seen him?”

“Harry Potter? You still hung up on him? Honestly, mate, it’s time to get over it. You’ve been obsessed with him since fourth year.” 

I sighed and pushed Blaise off of me and into Ginny’s arms. The guy was too drunk to be of any use.

“Sorry, Draco,” Ginny  said apologetically. “Blaise is such a lightweight. If you’re looking for Harry, he’s in the backyard with Teddy.”

I darted out of the house in search of my boyfriend and my cousin. 

I found the two of them right where Ginny said they would be. Teddy was balancing on a training broom, concentrating thoroughly on staying in the air and Harry was standing right next to him, ready to catch him if the little boy needed it. Luna was sitting on the ground nearby, reading her Quibbler and not paying any attention.

“That’s it, Teddy! You’re doing it!” Harry encouraged. 

Teddy smiled proudly and mustered the confidence to look up from his broom. He gasped and his hair turned blond when he saw me. 

The broom fell from the air abruptly and Teddy went with it. Luckily, Harry caught the six year old in his arms. But Teddy was unfazed by this and promptly squirmed out of Harry’s arms to run over and hug me.

“Draco!” the little boy exclaimed as I hugged him back.

“Teddy! You’ve gotten taller since I last saw you. Didn’t I tell you that you aren’t allowed to keep growing?” I said, scolding him teasingly.

“Sorry. Can’t help it!” Teddy answered, a large smile plastered on his face.

“Hey, Malfoy. What gives? Crashing a Christmas party and nearly killing my godson in the process? Who do you think you are?” Harry said, emerald eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I’m your boyfriend and I’m here because I love you,” I said matter-of-factly. 

Harry smile faltered as he took in my words. Then he ran to me and pulled me into a hug, much like Teddy had done not two minutes earlier. He pulled away from the hug just enough to press his lips to mine. 

“Luna! They’re kissing! Why are they kissing?” Teddy blurted.

“What’s that? Oh, they’re snogging. Come on, Teddy, let’s go inside and let them have their moment,” Luna’s calm voice sounded. 

She ushered Teddy inside as the young boy protested, “But Draco only just got here! Why does he want to spend his time kissing Harry?”

I suddenly found myself giggling against Harry’s mouth. 

“You love me?” Harry said.

“Yes, prat, I love you.”

“And we’re boyfriends? Like, officially?”

“Yes, git, we’re boyfriends.”

We kissed again. 

Blaise, Ginny, and Pansy barged outside just as it was about to get good.

“Yeah, Draco! Way to go!” Blaise bellowed, his arm around Ginny’s waist to keep himself from falling.

“Shut it, Zabini. You’re as drunk as your mother was when she decided to create you,” Pansy snapped irritably.

“You’re just whining because you can’t drink,” Blaise countered, eyeing Pansy’s swollen belly.

“Blaise Zabini! What did I tell you about being mean to Pansy when she’s hormonal?” Ginny scolded her boyfriend.

“Don’t do it cause she can kick my ass even if she’s pregnant,” Blaise answered dutifully.

“That’s right,” Ginny said. She rewarded Blaise with a kiss on his cheek.

“Ugh, I hate couples. You all disgust me,” Pansy remarked, pretending to gag.

Ginny rolled her eyes and yelled to Harry and I, “We just thought we’d invite you two inside. It’s nearly Christmas!”

The three of them went back inside to the warmth of the Burrow.

“Happy Christmas,” Harry said.

Snow had just begun to fall, and small, white, crystalline snowflakes were scattered in Harry’s fucked up, tangled mess of hair. I grinned at the sight.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” I whispered.

I'm awakened from my pleasant dreams of past Christmases by someone shaking me and yapping in my ear.

“Potter. Draco Potter! Wake up!”

“I’m tired, Harry. Lemme sleep.”

“But we're here! We're home, handsome!”

“Don't give me compliments just so I'll do what you want,” I say, cracking one eye open.

I'm lying in the backseat of our car. Harry's been driving for the past few hours. He was such a horrible driver when we started dating, and now he's doing it  all by himself without my supervision. I’m so proud. But really, I taught him everything he knows.  

“I want to go back to our honeymoon, Potter.”

Harry smiles and rolls his eyes.

“Me too, Potter. But we have to go home,” Harry insists. 

He kneels down so our faces are at the same level and pets my hair affectionately.

“Come on, Draco. Do you want me to carry you?”

“What did I tell you about carrying me?” I huff.

“Always do it unless you specifically instruct me not to?” 

“Correct. But in this case, I think I can manage on my own.”

“Whatever you say, handsome.”

By the time we've made it onto the porch of our house, I'm still groggy. I rub at my eyes blearily while Harry opens the door.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” Harry says. He tugs on my hand and pulls me inside. 

I barely make it up the stairs and into our bedroom without stopping to doze off. Once I reach our bed, I fall on top of it gracelessly, which is most unlike me, and savor its comfort and warmth.

“Harry, come to bed,” I call out to my husband.

“Here I am.” Harry flops onto the bed practically on top of me. He takes me into his strong arms and I notice that he’s not wearing anything aside from his pants.

“Ugh, I’m still wearing all my clothes,” I complain. My sweatpants are actually quite comfortable, but my white button-up, collared shirt is starting to get on my nerves. “Harry, help.”

Harry murmurs something unintelligible and my clothes disappear a half second later.

“You vanished my clothes!” 

“Yup.”

“But I’ll want them back at some point.”

“We’ll get you new clothes,” Harry promises. He kisses me on the cheek and says, “Sleep now, shop later, yeah?”

“Okay. G’night,” I say, snuggling closer to Harry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the present tense in this chapter is about a week before Harry and Draco's 1st wedding anniversary

_Morning, his place_

_Burnt toast, Sunday_

Draco’s house was nothing like I expected it to be.

Creyoled House was creaky and old. Which wasn’t to say it lacked charm. It had a large garden, complete with a fountain and a swing big enough for two, but no one took care of the garden so it was  covered in vines and weeds. Through the garden was a path that led to the guest house, where Pansy Parkinson resided. Creyoled House itself was big, three stories high plus a cellar. It was painted black, but the paint was chipping disastrously. The interior was pretty nice, to be honest. All of the furniture was undoubtedly as ancient as the house was, but Draco had made it look classy and elegant nonetheless. There were subtle touches scattered among the house that made it feel like Draco’s home. On the mantelpiece there was a picture of him with Teddy and a stack of potions books. The wall up the stairs was decorated with paintings that Draco purchased at Dean’s art gallery whenever Dean hosted a fundraiser. The master bedroom was all green, very Slytherin, and very luxurious.

I remember the first night I stayed over at Draco’s.

Draco was still asleep, exhausted from a night of vigorous fucking, when I awoke. After I kissed his head and whispered that I loved him, I decided to explore the house.

A half hour later, I wound up in the kitchen. I was trying to cook breakfast for my boyfriend, which was quite difficult, considering I only knew how to cook the Muggle way, and my boyfriend had no Muggle appliances. I managed to turn the stove on, and was just finishing up an omelet when Draco stumbled into the kitchen, drowsy and grumpy as hell.

“It’s so early,” he whined as he took a seat at the kitchen table. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to get comfortable and settle in a way that wouldn’t hurt his fragile arse.

To cheer him up, I served him his omelet and poured his tea. I added copious amounts of sugar and milk to his tea, preparing it just the way he liked.

“You’re an angel,” Draco mumbled. He caught my arm as I was about to return to the stove and pressed our lips together.

“Good morning,” I said cheekily.

“It will be once you fuck me,” Draco replied.

“Is that a challenge?” I asked, grinning widely.

I wandlessly sent Draco’s omelet and tea off the table and onto the counter and promptly lifted the blond out of his chair and onto the table. He was wearing nothing but a bathrobe and I was wearing nothing but an apron that read _KISS THE CHEF_.

It took less than a minute for those pieces of clothing to disappear.

And to this day it’s one of Draco’s favorite places to do it.

Not this morning, though. This morning Draco is yelling at the toaster loud enough that I’m sure Teddy can hear it from his bedroom on the third floor.

“Fucking toaster! Stupid, worthless Muggle contraption! Die toaster! Die! Avada-fucking-Kedavra!”

“Draco! Shh! There is a child upstairs,” I scold my husband.

“Please! I’m sure Teddy has already learned profanity from you,” Draco retorts.

“Draco, where is the toaster?” I ask carefully.

“Rubbish. Where it belongs.”

I look in the rubbish bin and, sure enough, there is our toaster.

“It burnt my toast,” Draco says petulantly, casting a glance to a piece of toast so black that it could be a lump of coal.

I snort, but then hug Draco from behind soothingly.

“We’ll just get a new toaster. But we should probably wait a week. You know, so it can be an anniversary present.”

Draco pulls away from me like I have Dragon Pox.

“Harry James Potter!” he chides me. “There is no way you are giving me a _toaster_ for our first wedding anniversary.”

“Kidding, kidding,” I relent, holding my hands up in surrender. Draco seems to accept this because he immediately steps closer, links our fingers, and  leans in to kiss me.

The toaster was one of the things that I insisted upon having when I moved in, years ago. Along with the toaster, I brought a telly (which Draco quickly became addicted to), a DVD player, a computer, a blender, and many other 'useless Muggle contraptions,' as Draco liked to call them.

But many other things changed once I moved in. Luna and Ginny repainted the exterior of Creyoled with a special wizarding paint that made the viewer of the house see it in the color they found most fitting. Neville, Millicent, and Gregory revamped the garden. Our guest house, which hadn’t been occupied since Pansy gave birth to Paulo, turned into a garage, slash potions lab, slash gym.

All in all, Draco’s home is just homier now that it’s Draco and I’s home.

Teddy also lives here from time to time. He usually stays over about two nights a week, if possible, and has additional visits all the time.

Another, fairly new, resident of Creyoled House is Pluto, our one year old Goldendoodle puppy. We got him about six months ago, and though Draco had been intent upon getting a cat at the time, when we arrived at the shelter he immediately fell in love with Pluto. And as for Pluto, he loves both of us.

Of course, Draco always insists that the puppy loves him more than me, but I strongly disagree. We've become quite competitive in trying to get Pluto to favor one of us more than the other.

Just now, Pluto runs into the kitchen, barking loudly and interrupting Draco and I’s snogging session. Teddy is close behind him, blue hair flopping wildly as he runs after the dog.

“No, Pluto! Bad dog! I told you to leave them alone while they're all kissy kissy,” Teddy chastises the puppy.

Pluto doesn't pay the ten year old any attention. He yaps and whimpers by Draco’s feet, begging for a treat.

Draco sighs and leaves my side to retrieve the box of treats. He surprises me by handing the box over to Teddy and telling him, “Take Pluto to the garden and play with him. I’m busy right now.”

Teddy does as he's instructed and once he's gone, Draco smirks at me and backs me into the wall. He pins me there and attacks my neck with passionate, biting kisses.

“Yeah, I'd say we're going to be busy for quite a while,” I manage to say before Draco falls to his knees and renders me speechless.


	10. Chapter 10

_You keep his shirt_

_He keeps his word_

“Draco, are you wearing my jumper?” Harry asked me.

I forgot about how anxious I was for a minute and looked down at the jumper I was wearing. It was definitely Harry’s, that much was obvious from the giant _H_ imprinted on it.

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Potter,” I said.

Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled at me suggestively. He walked across the room to where I was sitting on the sofa and straddled my lap. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered seductively, “I like it when you wear my clothes.”

I shivered unintentionally as Harry began to kiss my neck.

“But I like it even better when you're not wearing anything,” he said against my throat.

“Okay, that's enough, Harry,” I said, finally gathering my senses. “Pansy will be here any minute with the baby.”

Harry sighed and pulled away from me. I was partly relieved and partly saddened when he slid off my lap and onto the empty cushion of the sofa.

“Are you nervous?” Harry guessed. He reached for my hand and interlocked our fingers comfortingly.

“No,” I lied.

“You're going to be a great godfather. Paulo will love you.” Harry rubbed his thumb back and forth on my hand and smiled sweetly.

“You can't know that.”

“But I do. Kids love you. Teddy loves you, that's for sure.” Harry paused, and took a deep breath before his next words. “And I know that you'll be an awesome dad one day, too. I'll be the one that won't know how to talk to our kids when they're upset or anything. I'll also be bollocks at taking care of them when they're babies.”

My jaw dropped. It was the first time either of us had ever mentioned having kids together in the future or anything like that.

“What? Potter, you-”

I was cut off by Pansy suddenly arriving through the Floo.

“Sorry I'm late, Draco darling, but Lorenzo and I were talking and the time just flew by!” Pansy said.

I noticed that she was blushing slightly, and wondered if Pansy and Lorenzo had been doing more than just talking. The thought that Pansy and her baby daddy could be falling in love made me happy for her.

“It’s alright, Pans. Is that Paulo?” I asked hopefully, carefully eyeing the bundle of blankets in Pansy’s arms.

Pansy’s expression turned fond as she looked down at the child. She said, “Yes it is. Come here and you can meet him.”

I squeezed Harry's hand and then stood up to meet my godson.

When Pansy and Paulo left two hours later, I finally had the chance to contemplate what Harry had said before Pansy burst in.

“Harry?” I called into the kitchen.

Harry was making dinner for us. I hated the way that he made a mess and didn't follow the recipe word for word, which usually led to an argument, so Harry had banned me from being in the kitchen while he cooked.

“What's up?” Harry said, stepping out of the kitchen in my favorite _KISS THE CHEF_ apron, flour adorning his hands and face.

“Can we talk for a minute? About what you said earlier?”

Harry turned beet red. He scratched the back of his neck and shuffled his feet.

“Er, about that. I didn't mean it,” Harry said.

I raised my eyebrows and felt my face flush.

“I mean, I meant it! No, I mean- I-” Harry sighed and looked me in the eye. “I wouldn't mind having kids with you. I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with you, actually. But I don't want to rush things or pressure you into anything. I just love you. A lot. And I'll never leave you unless you ask me to.”

I couldn't find any words to respond to Harry. I just enveloped him in a tight hug.

It still amazes me to this day that Harry kept his word. He's never left me.

We Apparate to a villa in southern Spain on our first wedding anniversary. The villa is a Malfoy estate that was abandoned a century ago. Vines cover the outer walls and all the furniture inside is covered in a thick layer of dust.

“So, why was this place abandoned?” Harry asks.

We’re sitting on the patio right outside the back entrance of the building. I’ve laid down a blanket with cushioning charms for us to sit on and lit floating candles that hover in the air around us. They provide a warm glow as the sun sets in the distance. Harry has made us an elaborate feast made up of both of our favorite foods that we packed inside a magic picnic basket. Harry carefully takes the food out of the basket as I answer him.

“A few generations back, this estate was inherited by the daughter of the Malfoy Lord. She had always been a quiet girl, apparently, and her father thought she would prefer living in the secluded villa than in one of the Malfoy estates in England or France. Once her father died, and her brother became the next Malfoy Lord, everyone seemed to forget about her. No one from her family came to visit her for years, until her brother and his wife had a son. The brother was so proud that he brought his son to Spain to show off the baby to his sister. Only when he got here, he discovered that his sister was not alone. She was living with her husband, a Muggle, and her three young sons, all Muggles as well. The brother was furious. He killed the entire family and forbade anyone from living here ever again.”

“That’s terrifying!” Harry exclaims. “Are you being serious right now?”

I shrug noncommittally. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

“Draco Potter, you bastard! You made up that whole thing!” Harry accuses me.

“What’re you going to do about it?” I respond, narrowing my eyes in challenge.

Harry narrows his eyes as well, and before I know what’s happening, he’s thrown a cupcake at my face. The cupcake falls to the ground pathetically and I watch it in horror. I know that my face is covered in frosting, I can feel it. It’s probably in my hair as well. My perfect, pristine hair. And now Harry's laughing about it. Oh, I'm so going to get back at him for this.

A cupcake hits his head with a thwap.

And soon enough, cupcakes are flying all over the place. I’m getting frosting on my hands, my face, my clothes, and my hair. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Harry is aiming for my hair, just because he knows how much I care about keeping it in immaculate condition.

In the end, neither of us win the cupcake fight. Or rather, we both do. Because right now our bodies are slumped together as we try to recover from the incredibly hot sex we’ve just had.

“Presents now?” I ask once I catch my breath.

“Now? You want to open up our presents naked? Kinky,” Harry says teasingly.

I pick up my wand and clean us both up with _Scourgify_.

“Shut up, Harry. We both know that you’re the kinky one in this relationship,” I reply.

Harry gasps. “Excuse me? I am not-”

“Yes you are. But it’s okay. I like it,” I say with a wink.

Harry’s eyes dilate and he practically pounces on me. He secures his mouth on mine and wraps his hand around my cock. I know if I don’t stop him we’re going to end up fucking again and presents will be postponed indefinitely. _But_ _presents can wait,_ I think to myself as Harry sneaks a finger into my entrance.

It’s late into the night by the time we get to presents.

“Okay, here’s yours,” Harry says.

He gives me a tiny bag. I appraise it speculatively before sticking my hand in. Just as I thought, the bag has an extension charm. The first thing I pull out is woolen jumper. It looks suspiciously Weasley.

“This is just one of your Weasley jumpers!” I conclude after getting a good look at it. It’s odd, though. I don’t remember Harry having a green one with a gray _H_ on it.

“Look at the back,” Harry instructs me. He has an excited grin on his face.

I do as I’m told and inspect the back of the garment. I gasp when I realize that there’s _D_ for Draco knitted onto it.

“Do you like the colors? Harry asks hopefully.

“They’re perfect. Slytherin,” I say.

“Or,” Harry says pointedly, “the colors of our eyes.”

“That’s very gay of you, isn’t it?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Draco, you’re very gay. And we’re very married, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Hm, yes we are,” I murmur, smiling like a fool.

“Alright, now open the rest.”

I reach into the bag and bring out a boxset of DVDs.

“ _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_! All seven seasons! Holy shit, Potter, there’s seven seasons? We’ll have to watch all of them together,” I say excitedly.

I hug my husband in thanks. My husband pulls me back toward him when I begin to move away and kisses me chastely on the lips.

“You’re welcome,” my husband says.

“Your turn now.”

I turn around and rummage through the picnic basket for Harry’s gift. As I search, Harry presses a line of kisses down my back.

“Beautiful,” Harry mumbles.

I shudder involuntarily and momentarily am distracted from my task. But then I spot the gift, deep in the basket, and I retrieve it.

“Found it,” I tell Harry. “Here it is.”

I turn around and hand him a small gold sphere.

“What is it?” Harry’s brow furrows in confusion and it’s adorable.

“Use your wand. Tap it twice,” I instruct. I can’t hide the anticipation in my voice. Harry’s going to love his gift.

Harry taps the sphere, twice like I said, and the sphere suddenly sprouts wings and molds into a Snitch. But the best part is the broom that abruptly pops into existence and hovers not far above the ground. It’s custom-made, crafted by an expert in broomstick-making that lives in Italy. The handle is mahogany and is adorned with artful carvings of constellations. The bristles of the broom are bright, shining silver. The Snitch is also custom, though it’s hardly noticeable. The only thing special about it is the inscription, _All my love, Draco_ , that is etched onto the side of it.

Harry examines the broom and the Snitch in wonder. He runs his hand along the handle of the broom and is surprised to find that the wood reacts to his touch, causing the star engravings to light up, dimly, for a second.

“Wow,” Harry says. I beam. I knew he’d love it. “Draco, this is fucking remarkable.”

“I know,” I say smugly.

“Prat. You always outdo me with your gifts,” Harry replies, though he’s smiling.

“It’s part of my charm.”

“I love you. And your charm. And I love my present.” Harry finally takes his eyes off the broom and looks at me. His eyes are twinkling and his smile is blinding.

“I’m glad,” I say. But what I mean is that I feel like the luckiest person in the world to have Harry Potter look at me like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, the next update probably won't be until thursday or friday  
> I know that the timeline of this fic is kind of confusing, so feel free to ask questions if you have any!  
> Anyways, I hope you all like this story so far!


	11. Chapter 11

 

_And for once you let go_

_Of your fears and your ghosts_

Life with Draco is the best that life can be. But it’s not perfect.

I realized that when I was assigned to an Auror case concerning the abduction of three young children. The eldest of the children was only five. The youngest was a year and a half.

I was horrified by the case. My horror grew when I realized that I knew the children’s mother.

Maisy Reynolds was another Hogwarts graduate. Ravenclaw. I specifically remember her for her earth shattering screams when she heard Voldemort’s voice.

I sat across from her at her kitchen table and questioned her carefully. I kept my tone light and gentle, because she just looked so fragile in that moment. She was constantly tapping her fingers anxiously on the table as we talked. And at times she seemed to completely zone out.

“Ms. Reynolds?” I said, trying to refocus her. She was staring at a stuffed bear on the couch behind us. “Ma’am, I asked if you had any idea of who could be behind this.”

“Oh. Right.” She looked back at me. There were dark circles under her eyes. “Yes. I was thinking… maybe their father. Garrick has always been a bit high strung. And he doesn’t like that my mother and I take care of the kids. He’s always talking about how children need a father and all that. I just hope he doesn’t hurt them.”

“I see. And when was the last time you saw Garrick?”

“Two months ago.”

I jotted down some notes in my notebook.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, Ms. Reynolds?”

“I’m being crazy, aren’t I? I mean, Garrick is a good man. He would never do anything like this. Right?”

“I can’t say, ma’am.”

“Oh, of course. I just thought that you’re dating Draco Malfoy, and that man was a _Death Eater_ for Merlin’s sake, and his father was pure evil, but even _he_ wouldn’t hurt his own children-”

“I’m sorry, miss. But I don’t see what my personal life has to do with an of this,” I said with an edge. The last thing I wanted to do was be rude to Maisy, but anytime anyone ever speculated about the things that Draco would or wouldn’t do as a former Death Eater, I found myself becoming furious.

Maisy and I finished our meeting hurriedly and awkwardly. When I got back to the Auror’s office, my partner offered to chase down the leads we had. I gratefully accepted and headed home.

But I was still in a stormy mood when I flooed in. It must have been obvious on my face since Millicent, who was eating a sandwich while on a break from gardening, stopped her warm greeting to me and looked down at her magazine as I passed through the kitchen on my way to find Draco.

It took me a good ten minutes, but I finally found my boyfriend in one of the spare bedrooms on the third floor. He, Luna, and Ginny were painting the room in a pastel blue, but it seemed that they got distracted and had started painting each other instead. Weird Sisters music was blasting out of Ginny’s wand, and Ginny was shimmying in time with the music and smearing paint all over her arms, t-shirt, and overalls as she did so. I realized that there was also paint on the bottoms of Ginny’s feet, and every time she took a step, she left behind blue footprints on the floor. While Ginny did her dance, Draco and Luna were doubling over with laughter as Luna sculpted Draco’s paint-filled hair into a mohawk.

Seeing Draco’s smile, and hearing his laugh, was all it took for me to feel okay again.

“Harry!” Draco exclaimed when he saw me.

“Draco, your hair!”

“You’re one to talk,” Draco teased.

He reached out for my hand and I let him pull me close. We swayed to the music and smiled at each other like dorks for a couple of minutes before Luna and Ginny dumped a whole can of paint over my head and started an epic paint war.

“Thank you,” I told Draco later that night when we were cuddling in bed.  
“Thank you for what?” Draco asked. He looked away from his new favorite book, _Wuthering Heights_ , to smile at me.

“For always making it better.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but I noticed him faintly blush. “You’re such a sap, Potter.”

But I know that I do the same thing for Draco. I know that we make each other better.

I’m reminded of that tonight. Draco wakes up in a sweat, murmuring about torture and snakes and dark hallways.

“Shh, it’ll be okay. You’re okay. You’re with me. I’m here to protect you,” I whisper to comfort him.

Draco moves into my arms and puts his head against my chest. I can feel his soft hair against my chin and neck.  “You’re here,” Draco assures himself.

“Was it the Manor again?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, quiet enough that he’s barely audible.

“It’s over now,” I vow. “You never have to go back there.”

Draco holds me tighter in response. “I know,” he says.

I catch sight of our dog standing in the doorway. Pluto is watching us, his head cocked to the side as if he’s confused.

“Get over here, you prat of a dog,” I order. Somehow, Pluto understands my invitation and runs over to Draco and I. He leaps onto the bed and settles down practically on top of Draco.

“See, Potter? This is proof that Pluto loves me more. He came over here to comfort me,” Draco jokes. I smile, relieved that Draco is no longer dwelling on his nightmare.

“He only came over here because I told him to,” I point out. “So he obviously loves me more.”

“Yeah, well what do you know?” Draco says pettishly.

I laugh and kiss his head. “I know you, Potter,” I remind him. “I know about the birthmark on your left hip. I know that you write poetry about me. I know the names of all of your hair products and what order you use them in.”

“Hm, is that so? Well, I know that you practice cooking a new meal at least three times before you serve it to me,” Draco says smugly.

I gasp. “Who told you that?” I ask, even though I know it could have been anyone from Hermione to Gregory. I give my practice meals to anyone who will take them.

“Hermione.”

“You know I only do that because you’re such a picky git.”

Draco laughs heartily. “I think it’s sweet that you do that.”

“I think your poetry is sweet. You’re actually quite talented.”

I can’t see Draco’s face, but I know he’s blushing.

“I’m talented at everything,” he informs me.

“That’s debatable. Remember when you tried to make me breakfast?” I laugh at the memory of Draco trying to hex the waffle-maker.

“I would have sorted it all out if you hadn’t so rudely interrupted me,” Draco insists.

I snort. “My interruption was anything but rude. We did end up shagging against the refrigerator, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes, I suppose that was nice. Quite nice,” Draco agrees with a dreamy sigh. “Okay, I’m sleepy again. Tell me a bedtime story.”

I laugh, because he’s a twenty eight year old child, but try to think up a story anyway.

“Potter? I’m waiting,” Draco says impatiently. He lets go of me with one arm so he can pet Pluto, who by the way is also looking at me like he’s expecting a story.

“Once upon a time,” I begin.

“Cliché,” Draco mutters and I ignore him.

“There was a boy who lived. He lived through years of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, through being thrown into an unfamiliar and strange world of magic, through facing a snake-faced man time and again, through being third-wheeled by his best friends, through even death. Naturally, he was regarded as a hero and celebrity among his people. But he couldn’t care less about his duties as the so-called Savior. He was far more interested in getting to know a blond prat with an expensive trench coat and a talent for poetry. Eventually, the hero and the prat fell in love. It was unexpected, yet inevitable.They got married and lived together in a castle called Creyoled House…” I trail off, hoping Draco’s fallen asleep. He hasn’t.

“Harry?”

“Yes, love?”

“Do they live happily ever after?”

“Of course.”

“Cliché,” Draco repeats, but he doesn't sound too off put about the happy ending. In fact, he sounds pleased.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long! Updates will probably be more spaced out from now on.

_ One step, not much _

_ But it said enough _

“What’re you supposed to be?” I asked Harry dubiously.

“I thought it was obvious.” Harry did a spin for me, allowing me to take in the full effect of his costume. He was wearing a billowing black cape with a dramatically accentuated collar, a frilly white blouse featuring too many ruffles, and skin tight leather pants. 

When I still looked at him like he had lost his mind, he clarified, “I’m Dracula.”

“The vampire? Oh. I thought you were trying to be Snape.”

“What?” Harry asked incredulously. 

I shrugged. “It’s Halloween and Snape’s terrifying. Seemed plausible.”

Harry laughed and I then noticed that he’d charmed his teeth to look like fangs. It was kind of hot.

“Anyway,” I said. “What do you think of my costume? I’m a biker.” I was wearing skinny jeans with an excessive amount of rips, a t-shirt emblazoned with the name of a Muggle rock band I didn’t recognize, a jean jacket, a fake eyebrow piercing, and some of Pansy’s eyeliner. I wasn’t very confident about the look, but Pansy assured me that I was “yummy enough to eat.”

“Very sexy. I love the eyeliner,” Harry said.

“Oh! And look at the back of the jacket!”

Harry turned me around and read the inscription that Ginny had embroidered on the jacket.

“Fuck the police, but also  _ fuck _ the police,” Harry read aloud. “Draco, do you even know what that means?”

“Well, I clearly get the sexual innuendo, but I also understand that it’s some sort of Muggle catchphrase. The police are kind of like Aurors, right?”

“Right,” Harry confirmed and chuckled. 

I turned back around to face him again. I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“I’m excited,” I told him. “We’re throwing our first party together. This is a huge milestone in our relationship.”

“Huger than moving in together?” Harry raised his eyebrows skeptically.

“Yes, Potter. Obviously. Some of the most important moments in a person’s life happen at parties.” I’ve always believed that to be true. Which is maybe why it was at a party a few months later that I proposed to Harry.

Although I suppose it was a game night, not a party. But still.

Blaise and Ginny’s apartment was being renovated, plus the couple had a lot going on since they had only just returned from their honeymoon, so Harry and I offered to host game night. I had been waiting for weeks for the perfect opportunity to propose, and the game night seemed to be that opportunity. After all, Harry and I became friends at game night, and that was what led to us being together, so it was only fitting.

I remember it in full detail, as if it happened yesterday.

Ginny was curled up on Blaise’s lap on the armchair, and the two were passionately snogging.

“Ugh, do they have to do that now? There are other people around!” Ron said, eyeing the newlyweds distastefully.

“Oh, let them be. Surely you remember how we were when we had just been married,” Hermione said teasingly. 

Ron’s ears turned pink, but he persisted, “That’s different! Ginny’s… well, she’s Ginny. My little sister.”

“Don’t be such a prude, Weasley. You remind me of my mother, honestly,” Pansy complained. She downed the rest of her firewhiskey and smirked. Her poor fiancé, Lorenzo, was utterly infatuated with her. He held her hand and never took his eyes off of her.

I rolled my eyes. “Pansy, I know you’re tipsy, darling, but surely you haven’t drunk enough to have forgotten that you yourself are a mother.”

“Oh, but I’m not a regular mom. I’m a cool mom.”

Harry and I laughed at exactly the same time and made eye contact across the room.

Pansy frowned. “What is it with you two?” she asked.

“It’s from a Muggle film, Pans,” Hermione answered, eyes sparkling with amusement when Pansy crinkled her nose in disgust.

I was still looking at Harry. He was talking to Luna and her new best friend, Rolf. He laughed at something Luna said and then excused himself to get a firewhiskey refill in the kitchen.  _ Now _ , something in my head told me. This was the moment.

I took a deep breath before I went after him. As I was exiting the room, Luna stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Good luck, Draco,” she said sweetly.

I smiled at her in response, although I was thinking to myself, “How the fuck does she know?” I decided that it didn’t really matter and continued to the kitchen.

“Draco,” Harry said when I stepped into the kitchen. There was surprise in his voice.

“Were you expecting someone else?” I asked with a smirk. 

“I thought Luna might try to follow me. She and Rolf have been talking my ear off about Bicorns and Clabberts for the past half hour and I needed a break.”

“Aw, poor Harry. Being forced into being educated,” I said, stepping closer to Harry and taking his hands.

“Ha bloody ha. Just wait until she asks us to adopt one of the Fwoopers that she rescued in Africa. You won’t be cracking jokes then,” Harry warned me. 

I smiled and replied in absolute seriousness, “No, I’ll be slamming the door in her face before she can finish her sentence. Luna’s great, but there’s a limit to how much I’d be willing to do for a friend.”

Harry laughed. 

Which was, and still is, my favorite sound in the world. It filled me with an overwhelming amount of love.

“Potter,” I said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry responded immediately, grin still fixed on his face.

“No, but, like, I  _ really  _  love you. Like in that movie we saw, with the stupid Muggle boat that sank? And that guy, Jack, who loved Rose so much that he let her stay on the door while he froze to death in the water? That’s how much I love you. I would die for you,” I told Harry sincerely, my eyes never leaving his.

I let go of Harry’s hands and took the ring box out of my pocket. Harry gasped as I got down on one knee. 

“Harry Potter, I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, with everything I am and ever will be. You- you-” My voice suddenly cracked and I felt like cursing at myself. I’d rehearsed this so many times and now I was fucking it up. What happened to the words I used when I wrote poetry about him? I couldn’t remember any of them. But I went on anyway. “You saved me. You save me everyday and I know that I want to keep living everyday with you from now until I die. Potter, will you marry me?”

Even though I had made quite a mess of that proposal, it seemed to be good enough for Harry. His eyes were glistening as he stared at the simple golden band inlaid with a miniscule ruby in the box.

“One second,” Harry said, and then he turned around and started rummaging through a cupboard.

Needless to say, I was confused.

“Harry James Potter! What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing? I am  _ trying _ to propose to you over here, if you hadn’t noticed.”   
Harry turned around and set down a box of  _ Bran Flakes _ \- my all time least favorite cereal - on the counter. 

“I hid it in here because I know you’d never open this box,” Harry explained as he stuck his arm in the box.

“Hid what? What are you talking about? You’re acting like a crazy person,” I said, growing impatient from his lack of response.

“Here,” Harry said, and he pulled out a velvet ring box from the cereal container.

“Wait-” I said carefully. “You were going to propose to me?”

“Yes.” He walked over to me and pulled me up from the floor. “And yes, of course, I will marry you, you prat.” 

He laughed, then I laughed, and that’s how we ended up kissing in the middle of our kitchen, pausing every few seconds to stare into each other’s eyes and laugh some more, both of us with ring boxes in our hands. 

“Congratulations!” Ginny exclaimed.

We broke apart and realized that we had an audience. Ginny, Pansy, and Hermione were smiling at us from the doorway.

“Well, go on then. Put on your rings!” Hermione said.

I slid the gold ring on Harry’s finger. Harry opened his own box and put my ring on my finger as I admired the ring in awe. It had a platinum band and three tiny emeralds exactly the same color as Harry’s eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I told him and his eyes lit up in joy. I kissed him again.

“Oh, stop snogging him so I can congratulate you properly,” Pansy interrupted. 

Reluctantly, Harry and I left each other’s arms to accept hugs from our friends.

Pansy kissed my cheek and gave me a dainty hug. “I’m so happy for my little Drakey,” she said, running a hand down my cheek.

I swatted her hand away. “If you ever call me that again, I swear to Salazar you’re not invited to the wedding,” I said warningly. 

Pansy rolled her eyes and muttered without malice, “Drama queen.”

Pansy left me to go annoy Harry, and Ginny suddenly wrapped me in a firm embrace.

“This is so crazy!” Ginny said, pulling away from me. She had a huge smile on her face. “I can’t believe you and Harry are going to be married!”

I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I can’t believe you and Blaise already  _ are _ married.”

She laughed. “Neither can I.”

And today I can’t believe that I’m on my way to the Burrow to meet Blaise and Ginny’s newborn daughter.

“Oi, Draco’s here!” George yells when he opens the door. He ushers me inside. “Come on in,” he tells me, and then disappears into the sea of gingers. 

I stand awkwardly by the door as I look for a place to put down Harry and I’s gift. I can’t see past a pink banner floating above the heads of many redheads that reads,  _ Welcome to the world, Luna Fredrica Weasley-Zabini!  _ What I can see is that there’s quite a substantial crowd here besides just the Weasleys. From where I’m standing I spot Hermione (although I suppose she is a Weasley), Pansy, Neville, Dean Thomas, Theo Nott, and Parvati Patil. Hermione notices me looking around and approaches me.

“There you are. Harry said you’d be here any minute.” She smiles and takes the gift-wrapped package from my arms. (It’s a magical mobile made up of Quidditch players that fly around in pursuit of a miniature Snitch.) “I’ll put this with the others. If you want to find Harry, he’s in the living room with Ginny and Blaise and the baby.”

She walks away with the present and I head in the direction of the living room. 

I find my husband comfortably settled on the Weasley’s couch, a small bundle of blankets in his arms. Ginny and Blaise are standing nearby, watching Harry carefully when they’re not too busy smiling at each other or whispering together like lovesick fools. 

“Draco!” Harry stage whispers. “Come here and meet the baby.”

I look to the child’s parents for permission. Ginny nods, but Blaise sends a cleaning charm at my hands. 

“Blaise!” Ginny gasps.

“We don’t know what kind of filthy things he’s been doing with his hands,” Blaise defends himself.

I roll my eyes and join Harry on the couch. Harry smiles at me and looks at my jumper pointedly.

“I like your outfit,” he says.

I’m wearing the jumper that he gave me for our first wedding anniversary, ten months ago. 

I wink back at him. “I know you do. That’s why I’m wearing it.”

I turn my attention to the baby in Harry’s arms. Luna is gorgeous, with Blaise’s dark skin and Ginny’s bright and lively brown eyes. Luckily for her, she didn’t inherit Blaise’s baldness. She has little, black, fuzzy hairs on top of her head. She gurgles at Harry and I.

“Can I hold her?”

Harry gently transfers the baby to my arms.

“She’s beautiful,” I say to Ginny and Blaise. “It’s too bad she has an awful name.”

“Hey!” the parents protest in unison.

“Oh, I don’t mean Luna. Luna is a wonderful name. It’s just the Fredrica bit. And maybe the Weasley bit as well,” I clarify.

Ginny ignores the remark about the Weasley name, but agrees, “Yeah, Fredrica is an atrocious name. Fred would love it.”

“You realize that means that you’ll have to name your second daughter Georgina,” I say deviously.

“No way,” Blaise says, but Ginny has developed an oddly sentimental expression on her face.

“But Blaise think of how perfect that would be. Just imagine-”

“No! No way. Georgina is the worst name I’ve ever heard of-”

“Oh, please. Fredrica is far worse and we’ve already used that-”

“Only because-”

Ginny and Blaise continue arguing and I smirk devilishly.

“You’re such a prick,” Harry says in my ear.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Potter,” I respond. I return my full attention to Luna.

“Sure,” Harry says, but he drops it and drapes an arm around my shoulder as we both watch the baby fall asleep.

We get home later than we thought we would, so we order chinese take-away food instead of having Harry cook. 

We’re sitting on the couch, eating our fried rice and watching  _ Mamma Mia!  _ when Harry asks me how my meeting at work went.

“It went well,” I tell him. I smile into the food container as I add, “I got the promotion.”

“You’re kidding!” Harry attacks me with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. That’s fucking fantastic!” He laughs and kisses me again, this time on the forehead.

And then, just like when I proposed, I hear a voice in my head telling me,  _ now _ . 

So I pause the movie and face my husband with an expression of resolute determination.

“Why’d you pause it? Meryl Streep was in the middle of a song!” Harry whines and I roll my eyes.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Okay.” Harry moves our food onto the coffee table and smiles at me. “What’s up?”

“I was just thinking,” I begin. Harry takes my hands in his own and rubs soothing circles on the palms of my hands with his thumbs. 

“Amazing. I always knew that you had a brain up there. About time you start using it,” he teases.

I laugh and affectionately reply, “Shut up. I’m trying to be serious.” Harry nods and I continue. “I was just thinking that we’re married, we both have stable jobs, we’re desperately in love, and we both want a family. And my mother’s been nagging me about it, and I keep saying not yet, but… I think we’re ready.”

Harry’s thumbs stop moving. “What are you saying?” Harry asks, and I pray that I’m not imagining the hint of hopefulness in his voice.

“I want to have a child with the love of my life,” I say. I can’t help myself from joking, “And if he won’t do it, then I want one with you.”

Harry laughs and pulls me into a hug. 

“Yes! Yes, let’s have a baby! I really want one too,” Harry says against my shoulder.

“You sure?” I ask, because I know that I could never be a father unless Harry wanted that as much as I do.

“Completely sure!” Harry breaks off our hug so he can hold my face in his hands and look me in the eyes. “Draco Potter, I love you. And I cannot wait until we have a family together.”

He kisses me hard, as if he’s trying to reassure me without words. I kiss him back just as fiercely. 

“I want this more than anything,” Harry whispers against my lips.

I nod. “Ditto.”

Harry smiles. I smile. In this moment, everything is right in the world.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The M/M pregnancy referenced in this chapter is the trope where guy A's sperm is transfigured into an egg and fertilized with guy B's. So the baby will have both Harry and Draco's genes, but they need a surrogate to carry the baby.

_You kiss on sidewalks_

_You fight then you talk_

“Mother, I really don’t think Harry and I need antique swan feather quills,” Draco objected as Narcissa pointed her wand at a set of fancy looking quills.

“Don’t be silly, Draco. It’s a household staple,” Narcissa said. She caught my eye and smiled at me sweetly. “Harry agrees with me, don’t you, dear?”

I returned Narcissa’s smile nervously. Draco squeezed my hand to warn me not to concur with his mother. “Er, I don’t know. They’re kind of nice.”

Draco glared at me while Narcissa smirked smugly and turned to find other items to put on Draco and I’s wedding registry.

“Harry! Stop agreeing with her! Our house is going to turn into the Manor,” Draco muttered irritably and shuddered.

“Sorry. I just want your mother to like me, is that a crime?”

“No, but advocating for those quills is. They’re hideous, honestly, Potter.”

I laughed and pressed a kiss to my fiancé’s cheek. He was getting crabby after spending hours arguing with his mother over what would be a suitable wedding gift.

“Alright, boys, I think we’re done here,” Narcissa announced. She led us out of Amanuensis Quills and into the nearly vacant streets of Diagon Alley.

I looked around in wonder at the emptiness. I had never witnessed Diagon Alley so desolate before. Draco told me earlier that it was because Hogwarts students arrived back home today, and most people were off to welcome them back home.

Abruptly, Draco stopped walking and my hand interlocked with his jerked as I tried to continue on. I then realized that we had apparently reached our next destination.

“Mother, what are we doing here? This is a children’s clothing store,” Draco said, eyeing the sign that read _Pettichaps: shirts for squirts_.

“Oh, the owner is an old friend. I just thought I’d pop in and say hello. You two are welcome to wait outside if you’d like,” Narcissa said in a saccharine tone.

“Old friend, my arse. She’s looking at baby clothes, I know it! We’re barely engaged and she already wants us to reproduce,” Draco snapped once his mother disappeared into the shop.

“I think you’re paranoid,” I told him.

“I am not! You don’t know mother. She’s probably already picked out our children’s names, and, knowing her, they’ll all be dreadful, like Hercules and Sagittarius,” he whined. His hand loosened around mine and I pulled my hand away to stroke his hair affectionately.

I laughed. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy, you know that?” I bumped his nose with my own.

“Cute? Malfoys are not cute, Potter.”

“You’ll be a Potter soon enough,” I reminded him.

Draco was about to retort when a fat raindrop promptly landed on his nose. Rain quickly started to pour down on us and Draco made a sound of outrage.

“Great. Now it’s raining and my hair will be ruined,” he said crankily.

I laughed again. “See what I mean? Adorable. You’re adorable.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m taller than you.” His voice was still peevish, but the corners of his mouth turned up into a half smile.

“But you’re made of rainbows and kittens,” I said cheekily. I stood on my tip toes so that we were eye to eye. “And clouds,” I added as an afterthought.

“Damn,” Draco said, finally breaking down and giving me a real smile. “You’re pretty cute too, Potter.”

And Draco kissed me in the middle of the sidewalk in the pouring rain. Talk about romantic.

Tonight, I have made plans for Draco and I to outdo even that spectacular rain kiss in the romance factor. Because tonight is Draco and I’s second wedding anniversary. And right now I’m bouncing up the stairs of our porch, filled with excitement after hearing what Luna had to tell me.

“Draco? I’m home!” I shout as I enter the house. The door swings closed automatically, as it was charmed to do, and I walk into the living room to find my husband in the middle of a firecall with Pansy.

“Is there anything else I can do? Take care of Paulo, or something?” Draco asks Pansy. His voice is spiked with worry. His face is pale and stricken. Something is wrong.

Pansy’s head shakes through the flames. “No, Lorenzo’s got Paulo. Just get to the hospital as soon as you can, please. I know it’s your anniversary, but Blaise and Ginny are visiting Blaise’s mother in Greece, so there’s no one else. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call-” Pansy’s voice suddenly breaks off and she seems as if she’s about to cry.

“It’s okay, Pans. It’s not your fault. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Draco says. He flinches when I step behind him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but then relaxes into the touch.

“Thank you, Draco,” Pansy says and then vanishes from our fireplace.

“What’s wrong?” I ask immediately.

Draco moves away from me and starts making his way up the stairs. He avoids looking at me, something he always does when he’s upset.

“What’s wrong is that Gregory is a fucking wanker. He’s overdosed. Again.” Draco throws open a cabinet in our bathroom and starts tossing random potions into a bag.

“That’s awful,” I say, stepping to the side when he rushes past me into our bedroom.

“I hope he dies this time,” Draco seethes, words dripping with venom. He grabs a pillow and blanket and stuffs that into the bag as well.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Shut the fuck up, Harry. I know your precious Gryffindor mind can’t wrap itself around hating an old friend, but you don’t know a single fucking thing about what Gregory’s put us through.” Draco faces me now, all his pent up anger plain on his face.

“Tell me.”

Draco scowls. “Paulo was the one who found him. Lying on the bathroom floor. Paulo’s only four, Harry! Do you see how fucked up that is?” he snarls. “I am so fucking sick of these people - who are supposed to be my fucking _friends_ , for Merlin’s sake - who go around ruining my life!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that this was going on.” I try to reach for Draco’s hand, but he shoves me away from himself.

“Yeah, well that would probably be due to those fucking Auror missions that take you away from home at least twice a month! I can’t believe we’ve actually been trying to find a surrogate so we can have a baby! Do you know how fucked up that kid would be? With us for its fathers? With _me_ for its father?!” Draco stops talking as his voice cracks. My heart breaks at his words, and breaks even more when Draco falls to the ground and starts to cry.

I approach him slowly, and this time when I reach out for him, he pulls me close. I take him into my arms and kiss his head as he cries.

“Shh,” I whisper. “Tell me what’s wrong. What’s _actually_ wrong.”

“Potter, Harry, I- I don’t want to end up like them.”

“End up like whom?”

“Like my friends: Greg’s probably gonna die; Theo plays mistress to wealthy Muggles and depends on them for everything; Daphne has shut herself up in her room for the past six years and will rarely talk to anyone; Millicent is going to end up working as a waitress for the rest of her life; Astoria and her husband have suffered six miscarriages in the past three years. This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. Pansy, Blaise and I aren’t supposed to be the happy ones, aren’t supposed to be the stable ones. And we’re not supposed to be taking care of the others, either. Especially not when Pansy has a four year old son and another one on the way. I should have never let her take Gregory in. I should’ve known. This is all my fault.” Draco presses close to me and lets his tears soak the sleeve of my Auror robes. I run my hand down his back soothingly and pepper him with kisses.

“It’s not your fault, Draco,” I assure him and he cries harder.

“Harry, if I can’t even take care of Pansy, how will I be able to take care of our baby?” He looks up at me, face stained red and gray eyes watery.

“Draco, Pansy is not a baby. She’s not your responsibility. Neither are your other friends. They are adults. They can look after themselves. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you’re going to be a great father, Draco.” I kiss him deeply and as his tears start to fade, I feel my heart mend itself.

“I’m sorry,” Draco says once we’ve stood up and I’ve changed out of my tear stained robes. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’re wonderful and it’s our anniversary, and-”

“Draco, it’s fine. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

We don’t end up having time to go on the romantic date that I had planned. Instead, we go to the hospital and comfort Pansy with Dreamless Sleep potion, a pillow, and a blanket. We stay until the mediwizards inform us that Gregory will be okay, and that he’ll be staying at St. Mungo’s until further notice.

We get home late, at nearly half eleven.

I bring out the anniversary cake that I baked yesterday for us to eat. It’s magical, and the frosting on it depicts a Slytherin Seeker and Gryffindor Seeker who seem to be flying around seeking each other rather than a Snitch. Draco smiled brightly, the first real smile I’d seen from him all day, and I realized that maybe our anniversary didn’t have to end so badly after all.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say.

We’re sitting at our kitchen table, feeding each other the cake with the exquisite antique forks Narcissa gave us for our wedding. I put another forkful of cake in Draco’s mouth and laugh as he tries to speak around the food in his mouth.

“Whaf is if?” he asks, words garbled from the cake.

“I was at Luna’s today and…”

“And what, Potter?” Draco says after having swallowed. “The anticipation is killing me.”

“And she’s agreed to be our surrogate.” I promptly shove more cake into Draco’s mouth as I finish my sentence.

This causes him to nearly choke as he animatedly exclaims “Whaf? Are oo for ril? This is the besh day efer!” He pauses to chew and swallow and then follows up with, “Potter! We’re gonna have a baby! I hope he’s just like me! But I hope he’s just like you, too. Or a her would be great as well. Just as long as he or she doesn’t inherit your god-awful eyesight.”

I laugh as he rambles and interrupt his musings with a sweet, frosting-flavored kiss.

“I love you,” I say against his lips and feel him smile.

He gathers a bit of frosting on his fingers and smears it onto my cheek in the shape of a heart.

“Now do me,” he orders and I snicker.

“Feeling frisky now, are you?”

“I meant mark me,” he says. When I raise an eyebrow he clarifies, “With the frosting, you pervert.”

I do as he says and put a frosting heart on his cheek to match mine.

“There,” Draco says, pleased. “Now there’s two hearts. For the two years we’ve been married.”

“Next year there will be three hearts. For three years as husbands and for three family members.”

Draco smiles and nods. “Precisely.”

He leans into me and we share a wet, messy kiss. Draco’s hands sneak under my shirt as I deepen the kiss. One of his hands slides up and teases my right nipple seductively.

“Now is it time to be perverted?” I ask.

Draco lifts up my t-shirt and and licks his way up my chest. He crawls onto my lap and proceeds to rid me of my shirt completely. He then attacks my neck with achingly tender kisses.

“Oh, it’s definitely time to be perverted,” he answers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a really short chapter, but!!!! Harry and Draco have a baby!!!!!

_ One night he wakes _

_ Strange look on his face _

When Harry and I first started dating, he was the one who woke up in the middle of the night.

One night when I was sleeping over at Grimmauld Place, I woke from the sudden lack of warmth pressed against my back. I turned over to see Harry sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked quietly. 

He seemed startled by my voice. His eyes flicked around the room before finally landing on my face. They were alarmingly green and hauntingly raw with emotion, the sight of them undiminished, as his glasses rested on the bedside table.

“Go back to sleep,” Harry said. He was acting strange, almost solemn. 

“Are you okay?” 

I sat up as well. I reached out and caressed his cheek in a way that I hoped was reassuring. Harry caught my wrist. He pulled it close and placed two fingers over the veins of my wrist. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headboard as he felt my pulse.

We sat like that for what felt like hours, though it was probably five minutes or less. The silence was overwhelming and I thought I would drown in it.

“I had a bad dream,” Harry spoke, his hoarse voice breaking into the resounding quiet like a knife. He opened his eyes, but didn’t look at me. “You died. In the Fiendfyre. I didn’t-” He stumbled over his words and swallowed thickly. I watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I didn’t go back for you. Even though I could hear you screaming. It was awful.”

He dropped my wrist and leaned over to the bedside table, filling up a glass with a hushed  _ Aguamenti _ .

“That’s not what really happened, you know. You saved me; couldn’t help it with that insufferable hero complex of yours.” I quirked a smile at Harry, hoping to cheer him up. Of course it wouldn’t work if he kept avoiding looking at me. He exhaled sharply after he drank his water and stared into the empty cup. “Hey, look at me,” I said. I put a finger under his chin and directed his head towards me. Harry’s beautiful green eyes reluctantly met my gaze. “I’m here. I’m alive. And we’re  _ together _ .”

“I’m scared,” Harry suddenly admitted. We both were surprised at the confession. Harry recovered quickly, though, and dragged me closer to him. One of his hands cupped the back of my head and the other rested on my waist. “I’m scared of losing you.”

I leaned forward and pressed a firm, yet gentle, kiss to his lips. I pulled back only slightly to grin and say, “I’m not going anywhere, Potter. This thing we’re doing here, you, me- I’m all in.”

Nowadays, I’m the one who wakes up in the middle of the night. I go to the nursery like it’s instinct, and am never able to suppress the urge to check on Harry and I’s son.

I’m watching him sleep right now. His little chest moves up and down slowly as he breathes. The sight of it is inexplicably comforting.

Sirius James Potter, that’s what we named him. Harry insisted that we name him after a dead person, and I insisted that we give him an astral-inspired name. We realized that we could do both if we named him Sirius. He has black hair like Harry’s, although it is thankfully free of the messy curls that Harry unfortunately possesses. His eyes are also like Harry’s, but his chin and nose are all me. He’s utterly endearing, and I love him with all my heart.

“Again, Draco?”

I turn around and find Harry standing at the doorway of the nursery. His expression is exasperated, but fond. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. His hands move in lazy circles against my stomach and his chin falls on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to guard his crib, you know. He’s not going anywhere, Potter,” Harry says softly.

I hum contentedly as Harry kisses my shoulder. “I know. But he’s just so  _ tiny _ . Defenseless. Innocent.”

I feel Harry’s smile on my shoulder. “And he’s ours. He’s made of us.”

“Lucky little rascal,” I say.

“Have you had your fill for the night? Ready to go back to bed?” Harry inquires hopefully. 

“Why do you sound so optimistic?” I question slyly, sliding my hands over Harry’s.

“Maybe I’m hoping I’ll get lucky,” Harry suggests. He squeezes me tighter.

“Harry Potter!” I adopt a scandalized tone of voice. “Not in front of the baby!”

“Then let’s go to our bedroom,” he whispers. His mouth finds my neck and he sucks a hickey onto my skin. 

“Bedroom. Bedroom sounds good,” I say breathlessly as Harry grinds his hips against my backside.

He guides me and we go, hand in hand, to our bedroom.


	15. Chapter 15

_ Pauses, then says, _

_ “You're my best friend.” _

“Harry, I love you and you know that, but I am not riding on that- that  _ thing _ !” Draco protested upon my suggestion that we go for a ride on my godfather’s old motorcycle.

“That's what she said,” I replied with what I knew was an irritating grin.

“Honestly, Harry, what are you, ten? Very immature. This is why I don't trust you to drive that motor-sickle,” Draco said exasperatedly. His mispronunciation of the Muggle word made me laugh. 

“Why are you so against it? You like driving!”

“In a car! Cars have doors and airbags! And seat belts!”

“Come on, it will be fun!”

“What it will be is dangerous! This thing was made in the 70’s, wasn't it?” He angrily kicked the tire of the bike. 

“So? That makes it vintage! And you love antiques, don't you?” It was a pretty lame attempt at getting him to agree, but Draco cocked his head and eyed the bike appraisingly nonetheless.

I thought I might have convinced him when he suddenly shouted, “No! Absolutely not!”

I sighed loudly. “Okay, guess I'll just go by myself then. I'll probably just head to the Leaky Cauldron. Lately there's been a lot bikers hanging outside there. Last time we were there, I caught this one particularly fit guy checking me out-”

“Okay, I've changed my mind! I want to come with you!” Draco promptly announced. He walked over to the bike determinedly and placed one of the helmets on his head. He turned to me with an expectant expression. “Well, are we going or not, Potter?”

“Draco, I was just kidding. There is no fit biker guy. You don't have to come if you don't want to.”

“I want to. Really, let's do it.” When I still looked doubtful, he added sharply, “Any day now.”

I was spurred into action by his impatient tone. Hurriedly, I put on my helmet and settled on the bike. Draco took his place behind me. He wrapped his arms around me tightly when I started the bike.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

“I have total faith in you, Harry. Let’s go.” 

For all the faith that Draco had in me, he still held onto me rather stiffly when the bike started moving. When we picked up speed and lifted off the ground, his grip was almost bruising. It wasn’t until we had been in the air for a few minutes that he loosened his hold. Tentatively, he let go with one arm to reach his arm out into the sky. He let the wind filter through his fingers and laughed. I joined in laughing. Flying with Draco was the best feeling in the world.

I didn’t take us to the Leaky Cauldron. Instead, we flew around for hours. We flew over the Burrow, Ron and Hermione’s cottage, and our own house. Draco laughed a lot that day. I felt privileged to be the cause of his happiness.

We landed in front of our house late in the evening. As soon as we took off our helmets and dismounted the motorcycle, our hands were all over each other. 

Draco grabbed me by my jean jacket and pulled me into a fervent kiss. When I tried to break the kiss to say something, he caught my lower lip between his teeth. Still, I resisted and pulled away. Draco reluctantly allowed this and moved on to my neck. He nipped at it while I struggled to speak in between moans.

“Draco… Draco, just stop for a second,” I huffed out. Draco complied and looked up at me with a pouty face.

“Why?” he whined, looking extremely agitated by the interruption.

I cupped his face and smiled at him. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m glad you decided to come with me today. It was fun.”

“If there was a Triwizard Tournament task for stating the obvious, then you would come in first place, Potter,” Draco said. He smirked and pressed our bodies close together. “Can we get back to the kissing now?”

I grinned wider and placed a finger against his lips as he leaned in. “Wait. I also wanted to say that you’re my best friend.” I paused to take his left hand. I rubbed my finger over his engagement ring. “Which is why I am incredibly happy that we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together.”

Draco laughed. “You’re my best friend too, Gryffindork. You really think that I would hop on a flying motorcycle with anyone who wasn’t my best friend?”

“No.” I laughed too. 

“So are we going to resume the kissing now or what?” 

I was about to laugh again when Draco took matters into his own hands and began kissing me again. 

He’s just as eager and insistent with his kisses today.

“Drac-”

“Hush.” 

Draco attaches his lips to mine and kisses me like he’s starved for affection. Which is ridiculous, since this is the third time today I’ve found myself with his tongue down my throat.

“Draco, we’re in public,” I protest as Draco moves his mouth to my jaw.

“We’re behind a tree,” he points out helpfully. He slides his hands down my back and to my waist. 

“We’re at a fair. With our children. With our friends’ children. We’re supposed to be watching them!” 

“Luna’s watching them.” 

“The ride is going to be over soon.”

Draco abandons my jaw and fidgets with the hem of my shirt absentmindedly. He rests his forehead against mine and says petulantly, “These stupid Muggle rides should last at least ten minutes.”

“I know. It’s dumb. But we should go see the kids. Larissa probably misses you.”

Draco groans, but he takes me by the hand and steers us back to the Ferris Wheel anyway. 

Luna is waiting by the entrance gate with Draco and I’s two year old daughter, Larissa. The toddler is resting on Luna’s hip and she’s watching the swarms of people passing by in fascination.

“Papa!” Larissa shouts when she spots us. She immediately reaches her arms out for Draco. 

“Lissy!” Draco returns. He laughingly obliges and takes her into his arms.

“Me too! Up now!” says Arthur, Blaise and Ginny’s three year old son. He tugs on Luna’s maxi dress until she complies and picks him up.

Arthur and Larissa are the youngest of the kids and were too small to go on the Ferris Wheel.

“Dada,” Larissa coos at me. She looks at me with her big green eyes and laughs. I can’t help but smile back at her. 

Draco twirls a strand of Larissa’s blond, curly hair between his fingers as we watch people get out of their Ferris Wheel carts.

It took us a while to decide on the name Larissa for our daughter. I wanted to name her Lily, and Draco wanted to name her Narcissa, and we discovered that the name Larissa was almost a perfect blend of the two. It also fits with the astrology theme, because, as Draco has told me,  Larissa is one of Neptune’s moons. Larissa’s middle name was easy, though. Ginevra, after her godmother.

Larissa squeals and squirms when her brother and his companions gambol off the ride and come racing towards us. 

“That was so fun!” Sirius excitedly tells Draco and I when he reaches us. 

He’s five now, and thinks everything is fun. We’re at the Muggle fair for Luna Weasley-Zabini’s sixth birthday. Sirius has been talking about how fun the fair would be for weeks, ever since he heard about it. So far, the experience seems to be living up to his expectations.

“Can we go again?” Sirius asks hopefully.

“No! I saw a pony over there. We should ride ponies next!” little Luna demands.

“But ponies are boring!” Marco, Pansy’s five year old son, protests.

“Ponies are very intelligent creatures,” Luna, the adult one, interrupts. “They’re related to unicorns, you know.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard that before,” Rose Granger-Weasley confirms. She’s the oldest kid here, and hasn’t had much to say all day. Little Luna rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. Are we going to ride them or not?” she persists.

“Not,” Draco answers, frowning slightly. Makes sense, Draco’s always been a sucker for ponies. “Your parents have gotten food for everyone and they’re waiting for us.”

He leads everyone over to a batch of picnic tables where Ginny and Blaise have set up lunch for all of us that consists of all of little Luna’s favorite foods, including pizza, potato crisps, and, of course, ice cream cake kept cold with a discreet cooling charm.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on the kids while we were getting lunch ready,” Ginny says later, when Draco and I are painstakingly trying to get Larissa to eat something. Draco looks up from Larissa to smirk at me, obviously remembering how we were snogging behind that tree. “Blaise and I can take them to go on some more rides if you two want to go off and do something on your own.” 

“That sounds great. I’m sure we can find something to do,” Draco says, winking suggestively and wiggling his eyebrows at me.

Ginny shakes her head and laughs. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“I’m more subtle than Harry!” Draco contends.

“That’s not true,” I say defensively.

Draco scoffs. “Surely you remember Luna and Rolf’s wedding? You were all over me the entire night.”

“Doesn’t count. I was drunk.”

“Liar,” Ginny accuses. “I know what you’re like when you’re drunk. You were definitely sober.”

“Well, that still doesn’t make it my fault. Draco was wearing that Muggle tuxedo!” I argue.

Draco smiles smugly. “I do look rather fetching in that suit, don’t I?”

“Oh yes,  _ very _ fetching,” Ginny says sarcastically. She looks over at the kids, who are running around in a game of tag. Blaise has joined them, and is scampering about with Arthur on his shoulders. Ginny watches him fondly for a moment, then turns back to Draco and I. “So do you want a break from the midgets or what?”

“Yes please,” Draco says. He carefully transfers Larissa to Ginny’s lap and smiles at the toddler affectionately. “You’ll be good for Aunt Ginny, won’t you, Lissy?” He kisses Larissa’s nose sweetly and then rises. I stand as well, and take my husband’s hand.

“Bye bye, Lissy,” I say to our daughter before we leave her with Ginny and walk towards the rides. “You want to go on any of the stupid Muggle rides?” I ask Draco. 

“No. They can't be very fun; everyone riding them is screaming.”

“They're screaming because it's fun.”

Draco snorts.

“Come on, let's go on the Top Spin,” I suggest. “You'll like it. It'll be like flying.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “You sound like our son. He's been a bad influence on you,” he comments. “But perhaps I could be convinced.”

“Really? And how can I convince you?”

“Promise me we’ll do some kissing afterwards.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s it? I can promise you a lot more than a few kisses.”

“Then I suppose I can muster the will to go on one of these giant, moving, freaky machines.”

Oddly enough, Draco turns out to be one of those people that love carnival rides and demand to go on every single one.

“That was amazing, Potter! We should get one of those Ferris Wheels for our yard!” Draco tells me at the end of the day as we get into bed.

“No.”

“What? Why not? Think of how much the kids would love it. More importantly, think of how much  _ I  _ would love it.”

“No, we’re not getting a Ferris Wheel. If I let you talk me into that, then you’ll talk me into getting a Carousel as well, then a Waltzer, then a popcorn machine, and before you know it we’ll have an entire carnival in our yard.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Draco asks. He wraps his arms around me and lays his head on my chest.

“Nothing, I guess. Not if it makes you happy.”

Draco chuckles and sighs dreamily. “Didn’t take much to talk you into that, you complaisant sod.”

“That’s because I’m your complaisant sod.”

Draco chuckles again, the sound muffled against my chest. “You’re my best friend, Harry,” he mumbles before he drifts off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

_And you knew what it was,_

_He is in love_

I knew Harry was in love with me two weeks before he told me. This was, of course, because he was painfully obvious about it.

“Take-away’s here!” Harry shouted to me from the doorway of Grimmauld Place. I was upstairs wrapped up in a multitude of blankets in Harry’s bed.

“Bring it up!” I yelled back. “And bring real silverware! Not any of those plastic utensils!”

“Yes, your majesty,” Harry returned sarcastically. He arrived in the bedroom and nudged me as he tried to make room on the bed for himself. “Move over, would you?”

I groaned and reluctantly scooted to my right. I took my food from the big paper bag without taking my eyes off of the telly set up in Harry’s room. Harry picked out a Christmas movie for us to watch called _It’s a Wonderful Life_ and I was thoroughly invested in the plot of the movie.

“That’s mine,” Harry said. He took one of the containers I had in my hand. I still didn’t look at him.

“What is it?” I asked a couple of minutes later. I was just watching the movie and enjoying my ravioli, but I could feel Harry’s eyes on me all the while. He was staring at me and smiling. I couldn’t see him doing it, but I could feel it.

“Nothing,” he said. He grabbed my hand and kissed it.

Painfully obvious, like I said.

When we were done eating, Harry took off his glasses and snuggled up close to me.

“Harry, what’re you doing? If you take your glasses off then you won’t be able to see the end of the movie! Don’t you want to know if Clarence can convince George that his life matters?”

Harry just laughed and closed his eyes. “I know what happens, Draco. I’ve seen this before.”

“You do? So does George find the money?” I asked impatiently.

“I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

“But Harry,” I whined.

“You’ll just have to keep watching.”

“Prat.”

Harry smiled. “You’re the prat.”

And that’s when I knew. Harry loved me.

“I love you,” Harry tells me today, years later.

“Of course you do. I’m a saint.”

Harry chortles. “Saint Potter.”

“Shut up,” I say, and shove him lightly.

“I’ll be back soon, okay? The mission should only take two weeks, tops,” Harry says more seriously.

“I know. I get it. It’s your job.” I adjust Harry’s scarf for about the hundredth time today and smile in spite of myself when Harry rolls his eyes. “You’ll be back for Christmas. That’s what’s important.”

Harry nods. His eyes are big and sad and match his frowny expression. My husband takes my face in his hands and kisses me firmly, reassuringly.

“Give the kids my love,” he says.

“Okay.”

“I’ll miss you, Draco,” Harry adds after another kiss.

“I know. I’m the love of your life, light of your world, you can’t live without me, et cetera, et cetera. Just go. We’ll be fine. I promise.” I kiss him a final time before letting go of his scarf.

Harry leaves me in the doorway and stumbles into our snowy yard looking dejected. He places a hand on the shovel that is his Portkey and offers me one more unconvincing smile before the Portkey takes him away from me.

“I’ll miss you too,” I whisper once he’s gone.

I sigh and go back into our home, which suddenly feels ten degrees colder and so much emptier.

Two dreary days pass with my husband gone. On the third day of his absence, I decide that I’ve had enough of feeling sorry for myself and organize a Christmas cookie decorating day for the kids. Although if I’m being honest, I love Christmas cookies just as much as my children do.

“Surprise!” I exclaim when the kids come inside from building a snowman.

Within the time that they’ve been outside, I’ve prepared two and a half dozen cookies in the shapes of candy canes, mittens, Christmas trees, snowflakes, and ornaments. I split up the cookies into three piles, one for each of the kids. Each kid will also have their own supply of frosting and sprinkles. I’m really quite proud of myself. Sure, it’s true that Harry is the one who cooks in the family, but my baking skills are not to be underestimated.

“Yay! Cookies!” Scorpius responds enthusiastically.

At three years old, he’s Harry and I’s youngest child. Larissa is now six and Sirius is nine.

“We get to decorate them ourselves?” Larissa asks, her eyes lighting up with joy and creativity.

“Yes, all by yourself,” I answer.

Larissa immediately throws off her coat, mittens, and hat and gets to work mixing the blue and red frosting to make purple.

“I need your help, Papa,” Scorpius speaks up as he struggles to get his mittens and coat off at the same time.

“Here you go, buddy,” I say, leaning over to help him with the mittens.

“I’ll turn on the music!” Sirius says.

He runs off to the living room to turn on Harry and I’s record player. Moments later, Bing Crosby’s _White Christmas_ fills the air.

For the first time since Harry left for his mission, I feel happy.

When Larissa brings it up two hours later, I’ve almost forgotten how much I miss him.

“I wish Dada was here,” she says between laughs as she stands on my toes while I lead us in a waltz in the living room.

“Me too,” I say, my smile slipping a bit.

Harry hasn’t been on this long of a mission in a while. The last time he was, my mother stayed with me to help take care of infant Scorpius. Now my mother lives in France with her new husband and their vicious cat.

 _The Nutcracker_ music that’s playing in the background builds to a crescendo and I remember that I’m supposed to be dancing. I pick up Larissa and spin her around. She laughs uncontrollably.

“Again! Again!” she demands once I set her down.

“No, I have a better idea. Why doesn’t Sirius lead you in a dance and we’ll see if I’ve taught him well?” I suggest.

Sirius groans, but he gives in when Larissa pulls on his jumper and whines, “Dance with me, Sirius! Please, Sirus. Please, please, please.”

“Now, Scorp,” I say, turning to my youngest son, “Wouldn’t you like to dance with your brother and sister?”

“No!” Scorpius answers instantly. He giggles when I narrow my eyes.

“I know someone who really wants you to dance.”

“Who?” Scorpius insists. He crosses his arms and looks at me speculatively. With his haughty stance, gray eyes, and blond hair, he looks just like me.

“The tickle monster!”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Scorpius squeals and runs as fast as his little legs will go. I chase him, but stay far enough behind him that he thinks he’s outrunning me.

I guess the price to pay for having a fun day with my kids is that it’s nearly impossible to get them to sleep. It was pretty easy to get Sirius to change into his pajamas and into bed, but then he insisted on staying up late anyway to read Harry’s old copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

“Sirius,” I say in my warning tone.

“Dad would let me read it,” Sirius protests.

“Your dad is a pushover,” I point out.

“Please, Papa?” Sirius pleads, making puppy dog eyes. They remind me of the way Harry’s eyes looked before he left.

“Okay, fine. Only for a bit, though. Pansy and Lorenzo are bringing Marco over tomorrow for a playdate, and I don’t want you to fall asleep while sledding down a hill.”

“Don’t call it that, Papa,” Sirius complains.

“Call it what?”

“A playdate. I’m nine now. I don’t have playdates, I hang out.”  
“Oh, sorry. My bad. I didn’t realize how grown up and cool you are now.”

“Get used to it. I’m the coolest.”

“Too cool for a goodnight kiss?”

“Way too cool.”

I roll my eyes and kiss his forehead anyway.

“Papa!” Sirius shouts accusingly as I head out the door of his bedroom.

“Lissa?” I call into the empty hallway.

I hear a sudden scurrying of feet and a muffled ‘shush’ coming from Teddy’s bedroom.

“Lissa? Scorp? Hm, I wonder where they could be,” I say a little too loudly as I near the door to Teddy’s room.

I distinctly hear Scorpius’ giggle coming from within.

Abruptly, I push the door open and exclaim, “Gotcha!”

“Scorpius! This is all your fault!” Larissa scolds her little brother after an exaggerated gasp.

She and Scorpius are sitting in the center of the mostly abandoned bedroom, a small stash of cookies lying on the floor between them.

“Come on, you two. Time for bed,” I order.

Larissa grumbles the whole way down the stairs, but Scorpius rests his head tiredly against my shoulder while I carry him down. It seems that I wore him out after all.

Scorpius falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Larissa eventually settles down after I tell her a story about a prince that was cursed to be a dragon until he laid eyes upon his true love, the curse only breaking when he met the handsome knight that was sent to slay him.

I am exhausted by the time I get to my empty bed, but that doesn’t keep me from staying awake half the night. I toss and turn and mostly just miss Harry as I lay in the darkness. The bed is too big, too chilly without my husband’s presence.

Which is why I find myself in exactly the same position a week later. I’ve resorted to counting sheep. I’m on number two hundred and eighty seven when I hear a light knock on the bedroom door and a small voice calling, “Papa?”

“Liss? Is that you?” I answer.

Larissa opens the door and darts to the bed in a flash. She climbs into the bed and I scoot over to make room.

“Can I sleep here tonight, Papa?” she asks quietly.

“Yes, of course. What's wrong?” I feel a flood of worry fill my chest.

“I can’t sleep,” Larissa whispers. She rolls onto her side and faces me. “When will Dada be home?”

I don’t really know. But I can’t tell her that. “Soon. Real soon, okay?”

“Okay. I miss him a lot. Do you?”

“Yes. I miss your Dada so much that it hurts,” I reply honestly.

“Can I kiss it better?”

“You can try.”

Larissa kisses my nose and looks at me hopefully. “All better?”

“Almost,” I say.

Larissa smiles. “Dada can always kiss it better,” she remarks.

“Yeah. His kisses are magic,” I tell her.

Larissa scrunches up her nose in aversion. “Yuck. You like kissing Dada on the mouth.”

I laugh and agree, “I do.”

“That’s gross,” Larissa informs me.

“You don’t think it’s gross when two people in a fairytale story kiss.”

“Those people aren’t you and Dada,” Larissa objects.

“Do you want to know a secret, little Lissa?”

Larissa nods vehemently.

“Most of the bedtime stories I tell you are based off of your Dada and I.”

“Really?” Larissa says disbelievingly.

Suddenly, a noise comes from the floor below. I can hear the rustle of bags being set down on the kitchen table and the sound of a glass filling with water. For a second I let myself hope, let myself believe that Harry’s finally home.

“Is that?” Larissa starts to say, sitting up in bed and watching the door carefully.

But then-

“Draco? Pops?”

It’s Teddy.

“Teddy!” Larissa exclaims. She hops out of the bed and bolts out of the room.

Resignedly, I follow her. I find her and Teddy in the kitchen. Teddy has picked up Larissa and is swinging her around in his arms in a great big bear hug.

“Lissy!” Teddy says. “I’ve missed you!”

Larissa laughs gleefully as he sets her down. “Me too,” she says.

“Why are you up so late? Aren’t you tired?” he asks.

Larissa shakes her head. “No. Papa and I miss Dada and we couldn’t sleep.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure Dada will be back soon. But I know that when he gets home he’ll want to hear that you’ve been a good girl and going to bed on time.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Larissa asks skeptically.

Teddy laughs. “Maybe. You can be a bit annoying at times, you know.”

“Hey!” Larissa protests. She retaliates by pinching Teddy’s arm.

“Ouch!” Teddy says overdramatically, clutching his arm like he’s been hit with a stinging hex.

“Larissa, I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” I interrupt.

“But, Pa-”

“No, no, no. Teddy’s right. Rest up for when Dada’s home.”

“Oh, alright. Goodnight, Teddy.” Larissa retreats up the stairs.

“Pops,” Teddy says and pulls me into a hug.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” I say, and Teddy pulls away to shake his head.

“Get over it, I’ve been calling you Pops since I was fourteen.”

“I thought you were staying at the Burrow one more night.”

“Well, I’ve missed you too, Pops. Thanks for welcoming me so warmly,” Teddy retorts sarcastically.

I roll my eyes. He’s learned sarcasm far too well from Harry and I. “What happened, Teddy?”

“It’s nothing. Victoire and I had a fight. Or, not really a fight, more of an argument. It’s no big deal. We’ll work it out. Just would’ve been awkward staying there, you know?”

“I see,” I say as I set to work preparing tea for the both of us. “Elaborate please.”

“Seriously, it’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Teddy, stop whining and tell me about the fight with your girlfriend. We both know you’re dying to tell me how she was wrong, you were right, and all that. It’s just who you are. Drama queen.”

“Says you,” Teddy accuses. I give him a sharp look and he relents, “Fine, fine. I admit I want to tell you how obnoxious she’s being. We were just hanging out, talking about work and such, when she suddenly asks…”

I listen to Teddy rant until the sun creeps out from beyond the horizon. He eventually decides to go back to the Burrow and talk it out with Victoire. Later he fire-calls to tell me that he and Victoire made up and he’ll be staying at the Burrow for a couple more nights. Harry’s still gone.

It’s Christmas Eve now, and I’ve given up any hope that Harry might be home by tomorrow.

“But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, ‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.’ The end,” I whisper the end of the poem to my children and smile at their sleeping forms.

They all sleep together in the library every Christmas Eve night. Harry and I usually read them _A Visit From St. Nicholas_ together, and then wait outside the door for a couple of minutes until the kids stop pretending to be asleep and start whispering about what they hope they’ll get the next day. After a minute of that had passed, Harry and I would burst in and remind them that Father Christmas won’t come unless they’re truly asleep. I consider doing that tonight, but decide that it wouldn’t be the same without Harry. Nothing is the same without him.

I pad down the stairs wearily. I wait until it’s officially Christmas to fill the kids’ stockings. Too exhausted to go to my bedroom, I fall asleep on the sofa.

I wake to the sound of a hesitant melody being played on a piano. My back is stiff and my neck aches from sleeping on the sofa and I groan deeply. The piano stops. I shift onto my side, trying to get comfortable.

“Draco?”

And suddenly I’m wide awake. I open my eyes and wildly search the room for the owner of that voice.

My gaze settles on the baby grand in the corner of the room where Pluto’s bed used to be before he died two years ago. It has a giant red bow on it and it wasn’t here yesterday. But what shocks me most isn’t the piano, it’s the man sitting on the piano bench.

“Harry?”

“Who were you expecting? St. Nick?” Harry teases with a crooked grin.

I’m on top of him in a second flat. I kiss him sloppily, probably kissing him more on the chin than the mouth, and I thread my fingers into his mess of black curls. So tangled, but so soft, just as I remember them.

Harry laughs at my eagerness. “I missed you too,” he says and pulls my head to his face. He breathes in deeply and sighs. “I missed the way you smell.”

I pull away and laugh. “Creep.”

Harry’s expression is tender and fond, his Christmas-green eyes bright and happy. “I’m sorry that I was gone so long.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care, you’re here now. I love you.” I kiss him again.

When my lips leave his, I turn my attention to the piano. A crisp, white page of sheet music entitled _I’ll be Home for Christmas_ faces me.

“Do you like your present?” Harry asks. He nudges my chin with his nose. “Hm?”

“It’s remarkable. You remembered that I play.”

“Of course I did. You practically put on a whole concert when we visited Narcissa. Figured it’s about time we got our own piano.”

I nod before adjusting my posture and pushing Harry to the side a little. “I’ll play. You sing.”

“I’m an awful singer.”

“I know. Do it anyway,” I insist. I begin to play and smile widely when Harry starts to sing completely off key.

The morning passes in a blur of “I missed you”’s and Harry’s Christmas pancakes and children opening their presents rambunctiously.

Larissa’s jaw nearly drops to the floor when she opens the last gift. It was addressed to all three kids from St. Nick (aka Harry because they’ve already opened all the ones I arranged for them to receive from Father Christmas).

“It’s a puppy! We got a puppy! Papa, look!” Larissa squeals. She lifts a tiny, squirming Husky puppy from the large box and smiles blindingly at me.

My eyebrows shoot upward and I exchange a look with Harry. To my surprise, Harry looks just as stunned as I am.

“Maybe it was really him. You know, St. Nicholas,” Harry suggests.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Look here!” Sirius says. He pulls a card out of the box and announces, “It says his name is Moony.”

Harry and I immediately look to Teddy, who leans back against the couch with a satisfied smirk.

“What an odd name,” Teddy comments in mock puzzlement.

“Odd indeed,” I agree. I give Teddy a disapproving glare but that just seems to make him more amused.

“Teddy, I think we should have a conversation in the kitchen,” Harry says.

“Sounds lovely, but we should really be getting ready to head off to the Burrow, shouldn’t we?” Teddy replies frankly. He promptly summons everyone’s coats and our presents for the Weasleys.

“Can we bring Moony, Dada?” Larissa asks as she buttons up her coat.

“Of course, Lissy. Just remember that if Moony causes any trouble, it’s Teddy’s fault.”

“Okay!” Larissa agrees brightly.

Harry and I laugh our heads off when to hours later, Teddy is struggling to remove Mrs. Weasley’s shoe from the puppy’s mouth.

“He deserves it,” Harry remarks.

We’re sitting on the Weasleys’ sofa, our fingers intertwined and our smiles big. Scorpius is asleep on my lap and Blaise and Ginny’s twins, Felicity and Gilbert, are curled up together on the other side of Harry. Little Luna and Sirius are comparing the brooms that they each received as gifts this year. Larissa is in the kitchen with Rose, Roxanne, and Lucy, and the four of them are putting together dessert. Ron and Blaise are in the middle of a game of Wizard's Chess, neither of them paying attention to their wives, who are loudly - and drunkenly - gossiping about Hermione’s coworkers. Bill and Charlie are having a competition over who can wear the most Weasley sweaters at once. Seven year old Arthur is showing his new book to his Grandfather of the same name.

“I love this,” Harry suddenly whispers in my ear. “Moments like these. The family, the food, the fireplace.” He sighs as he sets his head against my shoulder.

“No need to be so sappy, Potter.”

“Yes, there is. I could’ve missed this. I almost missed this.” Harry lifts his head to look me in the eye. “I’m quitting the Auror program.”

“What? Harry, no. You can’t do that,” I protest.

“Sh, you’ll wake Scorp.”

“I mean, you love being an Auror.”

Harry grimaces. “Not anymore.” His expression softens and he adds, “I love being your husband. I love being a father. I think I want… to teach. There’s a position open as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. McGonagall offered it to me.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you even qualified?”

“Please. I defeated Voldemort. Like, twice. And I’ve been Auror for a really long time. I’m almost overqualified. Just think about it, Draco. I won’t take it if you think it’s the wrong choice.”

After a long moment of silence, I nod. “I want you to take it. If you’re sure that it will make you happy.”

“I am.”

“Okay.” I smile. “We’ll look for a house in Hogsmeade, then.”

“We don’t have to move, you know. I could just Floo home every night.”

“I know. I want to.” I kiss Harry. “I want to.”

“You must love me a lot,” Harry says cheekily.

“Yeah, I do. Spoiled git.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated :)


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